


love in my heart (petals in my lungs)

by Dusty_Skyes



Series: Striped Carnations, Bleeding Hearts [2]
Category: Banana Bus Squad, The Derp Crew
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood, Hanahaki AU, M/M, adam's in denial, jordan's the only sane one here, max doesn't known what to do with himself, silver wraith is an amazingly horrible influence and i blame them for this pairing, this started out as seamexican, ze and chilled are matchmakers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-09-22
Packaged: 2018-12-16 08:50:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11825265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dusty_Skyes/pseuds/Dusty_Skyes
Summary: Cosmos and hazel petals fill his lungs. Adam is drowning in the love he has for the both of them.Jordan's spitting out cloves and dog roses. He supposes that this is his life now.Max can taste harlequins and fuchsias on his tongue. He wishes he knew what to do about it.





	1. Cosmos and Filbert

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry this took so long. You see, I wrote chapter 3 first, then chapter 2, and then _finally_ got around to writing chapter 1 two days ago.

     Out of everything in the world that is unnecessary, Adam considers love to be the worst offender of them all. It’s unneeded, makes people over dramatic, and generally gets in the way of things. He has no personal interest in it, not after a string of failed relationships that left him coughing petals (and forced him to have the disease removed in the end).

     So instead he focuses on his channel, working harder than ever and pretending like nothing is wrong.

     (That plan, naturally, fails the moment Max and Jordan step into the picture, but Adam doesn’t know that yet.)

     The first day he meets Max is one where Adam’s pissed off at everything around him for absolutely no reason at all. He grinds his teeth together and taps his fingers against the desk; the urge to throw something grows larger. A ding echoes and Adam jerks slightly, his gaze refocusing on the screen of his laptop as it lights up once more. It’s been dark for a little while, his mind too distracted to actually let him work on anything.

 **RoyalViking:**  
Hey, Nanners  
Wanna play Prop Hunt with me?

 **Nanners** :  
Who else is there

 **RoyalViking** :  
Wow, someone’s blunt  
You in a bad mood today?

 **Nanners** :  
Who. Else. Will. Be. There.

 **RoyalViking** :  
Jesus Christ, Adam  
I’ll take that as a yes  
Chilled and I will be there  
Plus a new guy

 **Nanners** :  
Oh?

 **RoyalViking:  
** He’s a good friend of Chilled and I **  
** His channel name is Gassy Mexican  
He’s pretty hilarious

 **Nanners** :  
I’ll be the judge of that, Ze  
Where and when?

 **RoyalViking:  
** Give us five minutes to set everything up  
Trust me, it’ll be fun

 **Nanners:**  
If you say so  
Just let me get food first

     Adam sniffs daintily, clicks his tongue, and boots up Prop Hunt before standing up to go and grab something to eat. There’s half a sandwich on a plate on the shelf and Adam grabs it and the chips, snatching up a bottle of water to go with, and heads back to his seat. He slips his headphones on and leans on his elbow, lazily popping a chip into his mouth.

     “So,” Ze drawls as he connects to Discord, “are we all ready?”

     Chilled snorts and stretches, cracking his neck loudly. Adam makes a face in disgust. “Oh, fuck off, Adam. My neck’s sore as hell. I fucking slept wrong on it, or something.”

     Another click echoes, the sound of someone connecting, and then the username _Gassy Mexican_ pops up in the window. “Good morning,” a low bass says, and Adam freezes because—

     (That sound shakes him to the bone. It sinks into his veins and rattles him completely, leaving him with breathless lungs and a rapidly beating heart. There’s a fluttery feeling in his chest that he hasn’t felt in _years_ , and Adam has the strangest sensation that he knows what it is.

     He’s struck senseless by Gassy’s appearance. Hair as dark as the night with eyes to match and a figure to die for. The man is bigger then Adam by quite a bit, built like a tank and Adam finds himself watching him quietly.)

     ((There’s no way he’s going to acknowledge it, though. The phrase ‘One bit, twice shy’ definitely refers to him, though he’s been bitten more times than one. If anything, Adam has been bitten far too many times.))

     Gassy, as that’s who has just joined them, gives them all a smirk and runs a hand through his hair. “So I know Ze and Chilled, but who is this?”

     Adam snaps back to attention almost immediately. “I go by SeaNanners, but I suppose I can allow you to call me Nanners.”

     Dark lips curve up into a smile, white teeth glinting in the morning sun. “Well then. It’s a pleasure to meet you, SeaNanners. You can call me Max,” he says, and Adam can feel his heartbeat triple.

_(Oh, god, he’s attracted._

_Not again. Not again. Not again._

_He can’t do this again.)_

**oOo**

     The next time they play Prop Hunt together, Adam makes sure that he winds up on the same team as Max. He doesn’t understand why he does it—it’s not like he’s actually _interested_ in him, no—but Adam likes being around Max. It’s comforting in an odd way.

     Max is fun to play with; he enjoys hiding in ridiculous spots and he’s skilled enough to juke the seekers whenever he’s found. It’s quite entertaining, especially when someone else shrieks furiously.

     (It’s even more hilarious when the map dicks them over and they’re left scrambling to figure something out before the Seekers are released. Hectic as hell and extremely entertaining.)

     Adam slides his plant prop across a thin railing—his sharp gaze catches sight of Max’s newspaper as it zips through a door—and he leaps down onto a column, freezing instantly. With the other plants clustered nearby, hopefully Ze and Chilled will think he belongs there and move on without too much searching. Sometimes the best plans are the ones that are the simplest. It also helps that he refuses to be beaten by Max.

     Every time he plays with Max, something in his chest flutters and grows warm.

     (He knows what the feeling is and ignores it entirely. Adam does _not_ _have time_ for it.)

     Giggles escape his throat as Ze passes him by entirely, not even paying attention to his prop. Chilled eyes the plants surrounding him, takes note of how they haven’t been disturbed, and then turns away, apparently satisfied. Adam can’t stop his giggles and they become almost hysterical; he drops his head into his hands and covers his mouth, attempting to smother his glee. In his ears, he can hear Max’s low rumble as he laughs.

     “Come on, Ze,” Max says, silky smooth, and his tone is mocking, “you’ve walked past me way too many times.”

     “Same,” Adam snickers. “The two of you have looked straight at me several times. This is amazing.” He cackles, throwing his head back as his body shakes and shivers. “I’ve long since planted my roots.”

     Max blinks for a second then roars with laughter, and the sound of him slamming his hand against the desk echoes through the mike. “That’s beautiful,” he wheezes.

     Chilled scowls. “Hints? Inside or outside?”

     Adam sniffs daintily and sticks his nose into the air. “Outside.”

     “Same,” Max agrees. “Plus I can see Nanners from my position. Good spot, by the way.”

     “Oh? Can you?”

     “Yeah.”

     “Can you jump for me?” Adam asks with a frown, ignoring the feeling in his chest. “I have no idea where you are.” He looks around carefully and spots a small can appearing from behind a wall of green ivy. It immediately slips back into place and no matter how hard Adam looks, he can’t see it again. “Ooh, good spot. I wouldn’t have known you were there if you hadn’t shown me.”

     Ze groans. “It’s a cheatsy fucking spot, isn’t it.”

     Max manages to look suitably offended, and exclaims, “Of course not!”

     “It’s really not,” Adam adds, lips twitching upwards. “You can’t see him, but you can definitely kill him. You just have to find him first.”

     “See? Nanners agrees with me.”

 _(Adam’s heart flutters_ _at Max’s words_ _._

_But he ignores it._

_He’s good at that.)_

**oOo**

     Adam enjoys playing The Hidden. It’s an extremely entertaining game that drives anyone who plays it with him absolutely nuts.

     (Probably because he’s incredibly good at the game, especially when he’s the monster, but whatever. _He_ enjoys it, even if the others tend to scream at him.)

     Max, on the other hand, isn’t nearly as good at the game as Adam, and spends a good chunk of each game raging. Even more so when Adam cuts him down, giggling hysterically the entire way. “God _dammit_ , Adam!” he bellows, spinning around and shooting in the direction the attack. His form flickers red in Adam’s view, and he knows that Max will go down in one more hit.

     “Problem, Maxie?” he coos, giggling so hard he can barely control his character, and bounces up onto a railing.

     “Yeah, you!”

     “Oh, shush.” Adam snickers. “You know I love you.” Something in his chest squeezes at those words, but he pushes the feeling away, stubbornly shoving it to the back of his mind and forgetting about it.

     “I _wish_ you did,” Max mutters, “then you’d stop being such a goddamn cunt,” and Adam roars with laughter.

     “Jesus Christ, Max.” Chilled snickers, head dropping forward and a hand coming up to cover his mouth as he shoves three mints in at once. “God, I love mints.”

     Max almost shrieks, “You’re not the one he’s killing!” and Ze rolls his eyes in sheer exasperation.

     “I hate to agree with Max—”

     “Hey!”

     “—but he’s right. Adam’s going after him.”

     Adam sniffs daintily and sticks his nose in the air. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He slinks closer to Max, snickering softly, then shrieks and recoils when Max whirls around and shoots him. “Dammit! No!” His character becomes visible as it dies and he fakes a wail of grief.

     “Gotcha bitch!” Max barks, and then breaks into laughter. “Yeah, fuck you!”

     “Very nice,” Ze says over the sound of Chilled’s cackles, and resets the game. “Who’s up next?”

     “Looks like me,” Chilled remarks when everything loads. Adam cocks his gun and glances around carefully.

     “Sneak up on _me_ ,” he mutters, “I fucking dare you,” and turns in a slow circle. Chilled snickers and Adam’s eyes narrow. There’s a shimmery shape gliding along the nearby wall and he turns his gun on it. The shadow freezes in place. “ _There_ you are, you little fuck.”

     “Er,” Chilled says. “Please don’t shoot me?” He shrieks, leaping backwards in an attempt to escape, and Adam wastes no time in shooting him.

     “Get back here!” Adam takes off after him with a mad grin on his face, making sure to keep Chilled in his sights. He laughs gleefully. “Ze! Max! I got him!”

     “Mmkay,” Max mumbles, and Adam blinks when he realizes that Max is halfway through shoving a pizza slice into his mouth.

     “….Are you drunk?” Adam asks.

     Max stops and blinks at him. “Just a little tipsy,” he admits.

     “Oh, for the love of God, Max.” Ze sighs. “Really, dude? It’s not even noon.”

     He shrugs. “I got dumped.”

     Chilled winces and bites his lips. “That sucks, dude. You gonna be all right?”

     “In a little,” Max returns. “Just give me time to get over her.”

 _(Something in_ _Adam’s_ _chest shrivels up and dies._

_Maybe it was the word ‘her’.)_

**oOo**

     There’s a feeling in Adam’s chest that keeps creeping back no matter how hard he tries to bury it. Max is the cause of it, that much he knows, as it can only belong to him. It’s a sharp pang in his throat, a tickling in his lungs that’s uncomfortably familiar.

     (Adam has the sinking sensation that he knows what it is.

     Not again. He can’t do this again.)

     The problem is that Max is so damn nice that Adam can’t really blame himself for falling in love. Adam enjoys everything about Max, ranging from his voice to his personality and—

     (He has dreams now; ones that involve Max pressing him against a wall and ravaging him senseless. Ones that consist of Max between his legs driving him insane with pleasure, mouth hungrily sucking on the flesh of his inner thighs. Adan almost craves the possibly of bruises scattered across his skin and he hates the feeling.)

     It bubbles over after he wakes up one morning after a wet dream, inner thighs soaked with his own seed. There’s something heavy in his lungs and he stumbles over to the nearby sink to lean on the ledge, breathing heavily. His heart sinks in his chest.

     The feeling rises up and floods over and he starts coughing, body shuddering as bloody petals spills past his lips and splatter across the metal. “Oh, no,” Adam whispers as soon as he can breathe again, staring at them with horror. “Not again.” He slides down a nearby wall and drops his head into his hands, a broken sob escaping his throat.

     (Adam could have the hanahaki removed immediately, but there’s something stopping him.)

     ((He ignores the idea that he could, possibly, actually want it. That will never happen. Ever.))

     In the sink sit the bloody flowers and Adam picks one up, eying it carefully. They’re tiny ones, barely bigger than his pinky nail, and a bright shade of yellow that’s the same color as the sun. The things look like they’d cluster together, forming a flower that’s a lot longer than it looks. They’re small, thankfully, so it’s not like he’s choking on petals the size of his thumb, and Adam closes his eyes and swallows nervously. It’s so hard to breathe; the fear and anxiety keeps choking him, and he buries his head into hands and tries not to cry.

     (It doesn’t really work. The panic in his chest overwhelms him and Adam lunges forward to flip the water on, watching as everything swirls down the drain. Only when the sink is white again does he relax.)

     ((When he next plays with Max, Adam does his best to ignore him. Sure, he answers whenever Max asks him things, but he doesn’t go out of his way to talk like he normally does.))

     “Are you all right, Adam?” Ze asks between rounds of golf, and he’s frowning deeply.

     Adam scowls. “I’m fine,” he snaps.

     Ze does _not_ look like he believes him. “Right, and I don’t have hemophilia.”

     “Shush it. There’s nothing wrong with me. Are we going to play the damn game or not?” Adam takes a shot and snarls when it doesn’t go anywhere near the hole.

     “Christ,” Chilled mutters.

     The look Adam gives him could melt stone. “Shut the _fuck_ up, Chilled. I’m in a _terrible_ mood today and _I don’t need your bullshit_.”

     “Please don’t talk to Chilled like that,” Ze says and he doesn’t sound the least bit happy but Adam doesn’t care in the least. He’s so fucking out of it at this point, a horrible combination of hanahaki and stress that has made his temper vicious beyond belief.

_(Adam shuts down his recording and leaves the game without another word._

_He_ _refuses to deal with this right now_ _.)_

**oOo**

     When Adam next logs onto YouTube, there’s a new message in his inbox.

 **CaptainSparklez** :  
Hey, your videos are awesome.  
I’d love to play Prop Hunt with you. It looks like a lot of fun.

 **SeaNanners** :  
Fine with me. I enjoy playing with others  
You know how to play it?

 **CaptainSparklez** :  
I’ve seen your videos.  
Not really, but I can learn.

 **SeaNanners** :  
Well then, here’s my Discord  
Join me tomorrow, yes?

     Closing the messages, Adam breathes in and pinches the bridge of his nose. Chilled and Ze are currently furious with him so it’s not like he has anything better to do at the moment. This CaptainSparklez seems enthusiastic about playing, even if he doesn’t really know anything about it. Besides, it will give Adam something to do, seeing as Max isn’t really talking to him either.

     (He supposes he deserves it for being a cunt, but whatever.)

     That night he stresses about playing with Sparklez, uncertain if he’ll be driving off another friend before he’s even begun, and winds up with only three hours of sleep under his belt.

     CaptainSparklez, however, is bright and cheerful the next day, and practically beams like he’s the Sun God himself. Adam feels like he could go blind just by looking at him. “Good morning,” he says with a sniff.

     “Good morning to you, too, SeaNanners,” CaptainSparklez replies, smile stretching his lips wide.

     Adam makes a split second decision. “Please, call me Adam.” He giggles softly and covers his lips.

     Sparklez blinks, then beams widely. “I’m Jordan,” he says, then laughs. “Shall we get started?” Adam grins right back at him and opens the game.

     “Right,” he says. “So the basic idea is that there’s two teams. Hunters and hiders. The hiders can become props and they’re supposed to hide among the real ones. The hunters are supposed to search for the hiders.” He shrugs. “Of course there’s the usual bullshit, combined with the game dicking us over, but it’s fun.”

     As he fully expects, Jordan is terrible at the game, but the other is so fully enthusiastic about playing that Adam finds he doesn’t mind in the least. As they play, though, he gets better. Slowly, but surely, Adam watches as Jordan improves until he’s capable of—at the very least—holding his own (and it honestly makes him proud).

     They play several rounds more, and on the very last one, Adam actually fails to find him. Either he isn’t paying attention or Jordan is a lot sneakier than he originally thought. He carefully searches through the rooms, eying each dark corner in an attempt to spot Jordan’s prop. They’re just as empty as they were the first time he looked and Adam scowls, cocking his gun. “Hint,” he snaps.

     “Inside,” Jordan says, and he’s snickering. “And you’ve looked at me several times.”

     “God _damn_ it!” Adam exclaims. “And I wanted to use my fucking nuke, too.” He heaves a sigh and considers pinching his nose, instead choosing to check the timer. Fifteen seconds left and he hasn’t seen Jordan once this round. “Why on earth did you have to go and get _good_?”

     The timer goes off and _Props Win!_ appears on the screen, and Jordan lets out a cheer. “Fuck yeah! I won!”

     “Congratulations. Now where the hell were you?” Jordan laughs so hard his wheezes go silent and then Adam catches sight of a small can whipping around his feet. “Oh, no fucking way.” He clicks the right trigger and blows the entire room up, watching as _SeaNanners killed CaptainSparklez_ finally, _finally_ appears on the kill stream. “You’ve been learning from me, haven’t you?”

_(Something about that thought makes him smile._

_The warm feeling in his chest is back again._ _)_

**oOo**

     Approximately three weeks after he plays Prop Hunt with Jordan for the first time, Adam apologizes to Chilled and Ze. And not in a sort of roundabout, sneaky way that is totally Adam, but genuine. It starts when he boots up his Discord and directly calls Ze.

     Ze picks up, face dark, and immediately says, “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t hang up right here, right now.”

     Adam swallows and asks, “Is Chilled with you?” and he can see Ze’s eyes narrow.

     Chilled steps into view and he looks just as happy as Ze. “What.” It’s not a question.

     “I—I want to apologize,” Adam finally says after half a second of silence, and surprise etches itself across their faces.

     “What?”

     “I’m sorry.” He breathes in and rubs his eyes. “I shouldn’t have snapped and I don’t know what happened and I--” Adam drops his head into his hands and struggles to keep himself together. He can feel the petals in his lungs shifting and swallows. Even if he has them removed, he’d at least like to tell someone.

     (He’s not in love with Max.)

     ((He’s not.))

     (((He can’t be.)))

     “Adam?” Ze asks, and Adam can hear the concern in his voice.

     Adam breathes in and picks his head up, smiling wide enough that there’s no hiding how fake it actually is. “Sorry. I’ve been dealing with some personal health issues and I took the stress out on you.”

     Chilled’s eyes narrow slowly, suspicion burning in his gaze. “‘Personal health issues’?” he echoes.

     The fake smile Adam’s wearing becomes even faker. “Don’t worry about it. Now, I was thinking of playing the Hidden. Want to join?”

     Ze laughs, and it’s clear he’s only letting it slide for now. “Why not. Who else will be there?”

     Adam fidgets slightly, gaze shifting away in embarrassment. It’s such an odd expression on him that Chilled and Ze have to look again. “Er. I was hoping you could ask Max. He hasn’t spoken to me in almost a month and he wouldn’t pick up when I tried this morning.” He huffs, then adds, “I called him first,” looking vaguely sheepish.

     “Oh my god,” Chilled mutters. “Ze and I got this. Anyone else.”

     “Oh! Yeah, I made friends with a guy by the name of CaptainSparklez. Taught him how to play Prop Hunt. He’s pretty good, too.”

     Chilled and Ze share looks. “By ‘good’ I’m going to assume that he’s learned some of your tricks and is a sneaky motherfucker?”

     Adam grins. “That’s for me to know and you to not know.”

     “Yeah, he’s a sneaky motherfucker.” Chilled sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “This should be interesting.

     “Anything else we should know about this ‘CaptainSparklez’?”

     A hum escapes Adam’s throat and he rocks back in his chair. “He’s laid back, pretty easy going, and likes being a troll. Oh, and his first name is Jordan, but he’s quite okay with being called Sparklez.”

     “And you know this _how_?”

     Adam shrugs. “I’ve been playing with him for a little less than a month now?”

     Ze sighs. “You’re just as terrible as I remember,” he says, and Adam laughs.

_(He laughs until his stomach aches._

_His lungs still burn._

_They probably will for a long time_ _)_

**oOo**

     Playing with Chilled and Ze for the first time in almost a month winds up with Adam laughing so hard he can barely breathe.

     (Max still won’t answer, not even to Ze and Chilled, and Adam’s trying desperately to not think about it.)

     ((When he finally does answer, almost an entire week later, it’s with deep suspicion and Adam winds up apologizing to him, too. Max’s lips twitch and he sighs. “You shouldn’t apologize to me, but to Chilled and Ze instead.”

     “I already did,” Adam tells him, “about a week ago.” Max smiles and it’s almost as bright as Jordan’s own. His heartbeat picks up.))

     (((This is not fucking happening.)))

     “Max,” Adam begins the day they decide to play golf (and teach Jordan how to play at the same time), “this is Jordan. Jordan, this is Max.”

     Jordan huffs a soft laugh and waves hello. “It’s nice to meet you, Max” he says.

     Max leans back in his chair and nods in return. “Hello to you, too.” He turns his gaze towards Adam and raises a brow. “CaptainSparklez?”

     Adam doesn’t even attempt to look sheepish. “Started playing with him a little over a month ago,” he says, shrugging. “Jordan learns quickly, so teaching him how to play golf shouldn’t be _that_ hard.”

     “Not with us teaching him,” Max adds. “Or, at least, not with _you_ teaching him.” He runs a hand through his hair and cracks his neck. “I swear, Adam, if you can’t teach him, then no one can.”

     “I _am_ here, you know, _”_ Jordan tells them, and he’s trying desperately to not laugh. “I also have a fairly good idea of how to play. I just don’t know if I’ll be any good at it.”

     “Well, we’ll find out in a little.”

     As it turns out, Jordan isn’t actually that bad at golf. He has some slight issues judging power, and, mostly because Adam is a _terrible_ influence, he likes to attempt trick-shots that only _Adam_ can do in the first place.

     Adam can’t help but laugh when Max’s shot is blocked by a rotating piece of wood. “Can’t I land a goddamn shot?”

     “Apparently not,” Adam tells him sweetly. Max’s ball is sitting near the edge and Adam can’t resist, taking the chance to smash his ball right back towards the beginning.

     “You son of a _bitch!_ ” Max bellows, slamming his hand against his desk, and his next shot sends Adam’s ball careening over the edge. Adam’s voice pitches upwards into a scream of fury, and he shrieks as he respawns at the beginning just in time to watch both Jordan and Max sink their final shots.

     “And I take the lead,” Jordan says, laughing almost breathlessly, and Adam knows he can’t take the lead back. It is, after all, the eighteenth hole. Besides, winning against him is known to be difficult, so he really shouldn’t be _that_ mad.

     (It’s only after the game is over that it happens. His lungs _burn_ and Adam stumbles into the bathroom just in time. He leans over the sink and chokes on the petals that come up, spitting them out desperately in an attempt to breathe. Max’s flowers are familiar, tiny little yellow specks that are mostly lost among the bright orange, ribbed petals that now coat the bottom.)

     ((Adam recognizes them as Cosmos, and for a moment he doesn’t react. Then he realizes what he’s seeing and the panic actually sets in. ))

_(He has hanahaki for both Jordan and Max.)_


	2. Cloves and Dog Roses

     Jordan does not have problems.

     (That’s a lie and a big one, too. Jordan has massive problems.)

     It all starts when he first stumbles across a video of a YouTuber who goes under the name SeaNanners, the man who has the most amazing laughter he’s ever heard. Jordan watches it with wide eyes, his heart halfway caught in his throat, and promptly breaks into snickers when Nanners neatly jukes one of the seekers. He’s incredibly good at the game and Jordan knows he’s barely breathing as the video continues playing.

     Oh god, boy does Jordan want to play with him at least once. It seems like it’d be an epic thing to do, to play a game with _the_ SeaNanners. And that’s not even including the possibility of them becoming _friends_.

     (It takes Jordan three weeks to work up enough courage to message him and even then he’s still kinda regretting just going ahead and doing it. What if SeaNanners refuses?)

**CaptainSparklez** :  
Hey, your videos are awesome.  
I’d love to play Prop Hunt with you. It looks like a lot of fun.

**SeaNanners** :  
Fine with me. I enjoy playing with others  
You know how to play it?

**CaptainSparklez** :  
I’ve seen your videos.  
Not really, but I can learn.

**SeaNanners** :  
Well then, here’s my Discord  
Join me tomorrow, yes?

     When Jordan joins him in a game of prop hunt the next day, he’s unsure as to what he’s doing, but Nanners is patient and guides him through the rules. They spend hours playing and he finds himself enjoying Nanners’ company, laughing alongside him when he fails miserably. “This is amazing,” he wheezes, wiggling his prop deeper into the darkness.

     With each round that passes by Jordan gets better at the game, until he’s able to successfully hide from Adam for more than a minute. Until he’s capable of actually hunting Adam down and finding him, instead of wasting his time searching fruitlessly. Jordan finds himself enjoying playing with Adam and looks forward to each new session.

     There are the moments when Nanners starts giggling, triggering Jordan’s own, and then they’re both laughing until they’re wheezing for breath and Jordan can barely play correctly. The moment when they trade numbers and spend twenty minutes doing nothing but talking about themselves, with a mention of YouTube. When they see each other’s faces for the first time and Nanners beams at Jordan, eyes crinkling as he smiles wide enough to split his cheeks in two. It’s in the heartbeat when Nanners says, “Please, call me Adam,” before giggling softly.

     (It’s in the seconds when Jordan leans over a sink, body shuddering as he coughs the petals out of his lungs. Pink petals, their points edged in white and splattered with blood, drift down to the metal and Jordan washes them away, swallowing roughly. He knows enough about hanahaki, knows what this means, and he dreads it.

     Jordan never thought he’d fall in love with another man, much less someone he considers a good friend. Nor did he ever think it would be this painful. Adam can’t know, won’t ever know; Jordan’s pretty sure the man’s straight as a rail anyway, so it’s not like anything will ever happen. All he can really do is suffer the pain of the hanahaki and take as much pleasure as he can out of being friends with Adam.)

_(( He never expected this to happen._

_It’s like his heart has been torn into two. ))_

**oOo**

     One is bad enough. Jordan never expected for it to become two. He meets Max on a particularly boring day, when they need another for their game of golf, and Adam enthusiastically suggests him. Jordan’s in the process of learning the game and Adam wants someone to assist him in the teaching.

     (Adam really wants someone to laugh with when Jordan fails miserably, that much he is certain of. Jordan doesn’t mind though, not when it allows him to hear more of Adam’s wonderfully amazing, absolutely addicting laugh. Even if it does mean he has to share it with this Max.)

     ((His plan of silently snubbing Max goes straight to hell when the man logs into the Discord chat and the two of them come face to face for the first time. Max tilts his head to the side and smirks, lips pulling back to reveal the sharp glint of teeth, and he opens his mouth and—

     And whatever Jordan is expecting, it isn’t a low smooth bass that makes every nerve in his body shiver and his toes curl. He doesn’t expect a voice rough from sleep, but still dripping with liquid sex. It’s not fucking fair. Sometimes, Jordan really hates his thing for voices.))

     “Goddammit, Adam,” Max says, and he looks like he’s just fallen out of bed, “your stupid text woke me up.” He yawns and shifts his headphones back, enough so that he can run a hand through his messy hair. “This had better be good, you dick, because I’m running on nothing but three hours of sleep.”

     Adam sniffs daintily and sticks his nose up in the air. “Well,” he huffs, “I never,” and looks suitably offended, even though Jordan can somewhat tell that he isn’t really.

     Max snorts and picks up a cup of coffee, his throat working as he drains it. “Don’t be a dick, Adam. Now, what did you want? If you can’t tell me, I’m logging off and going back to sleep.”

     “You seem pretty amiable for only three hours of sleep,” Adam points out.

     The look Max gives him could melt stone. “Practice, plus a lot a caffeine and spite,” he growls, and the sound vibrates through Jordan’s bones.

     It’s at that point that Jordan makes a squeaking noise, his voice failing to come out of his throat correctly, and Max’s head snaps over towards him. Jordan sheepishly waves a hello and then promptly removes his headphones so he can bolt to the kitchen and hide for a minute. “What the hell was that, you fool?” he hisses, thunking his head against the cool metal of his fridge. “Stupid, that’s what that was.” Huffing in irritation, Jordan grabs a drink before heading back and settling down in his seat.

     (His heartbeat is rapid inside of his chest, beating a swift tattoo of _one two one two one two_.)

     Max flashes him a smile that makes his knees weak when he returns, and gives him a courteous nod. “So, you’re CaptainSparklez, then?” he asks.

     Jordan nods, trying not to look _too_ eager. Damn his thing for nice voices on good looking men.

     “It’s nice to finally meet you,” Max says, and his smile could outshine the sun.

_(Okay, so it turns out that Jordan is a lot more bi than he originally thought._

_So maybe this is his life now._

_He’s actually pretty okay with this, though.)_

**oOo**

     Max’s tongue is as sharp as the north wind, and Jordan finds that he enjoys his rather twisted sense of humor. It helps that he has an amiable personality, and it’s absolutely hilarious when he rages.

     (Sometimes Jordan will purposefully needle him, just to hear that smooth voice bellow, “God _dammit_!” It never fails at sending shivers down his spine, and Jordan can only imagine what that voice would be like in bed, purring silky words into his ears.

     Now that Jordan thinks about it, he might have a problem. A massive one. One that might include the idea of Max pinning him against the nearest wall and kissing him senseless.)

     ((For a brief moment, just a brief one, Jordan has a panic attack at the thought of being head over heels for more than one person. Then he remembers that polygamy is a thing that exists and relaxes a little.

     That panic attack does actually happen when Jordan finds himself leaning over the sink, clutching at his chest as he coughs out two separate kinds of flowers. Adam’s flowers are still there, the pink petals of the Dog Rose very familiar, but they’re joined by white puffballs tipped in little yellow balls. Clove flowers, he realizes after a moment, and has to swallow nervously. They’re probably for Max; it’s the only thing that Jordan can think of that actually makes any sense. The fact that he’s actually more than a little bit in love with the both of them is terrifying.))

     Somehow Jordan gets by with pretending he isn’t head over heels for the both Adam and Max. He laughs with them, feigns like he isn’t coughing up bloody petals on an almost daily basis, and acts like his lungs don’t ache as much as they really do.

     He knows he’s miserable, even though he gets to see them almost every day. His heart tightens in his chest, his lungs ache, and he knows there are butterflies in his stomach. Jordan has no idea as to how he’ll handle meeting them face to face; there’s a very chance he’d start coughing up petals in front of them. And then where would he be?

     (Sometimes, if Jordan is feeling particularly maudlin, he wonders what it would be like to kiss one or the other. He imagines being pressed against the wall by Max, dreams of pinning Adam against the bed, and considers what it would be like to have the both of them at the same time.

     It’s a dream that lingers in the back of his mind, making it incredibly difficult to focus sometimes. So much so that he fails miserably on some easy shots while golfing, and misses blatantly visible props in Prop Hunt.)

     It’s obvious enough that the others notice. Adam eyes him calmly, gaze sharp enough to pierce stone, and casually asks, “Is something wrong, Jordan?”

     Jordan swallows nervously and licks his lips, carefully thinking over his response. “I’m all right,” he says slowly, “just a little tired, that’s all. I’ve been dealing with some things lately.”

_(Oh, he’s been dealing with things all right._

_He’d rather not have anyone else worry about him, though.)_

**oOo**

     The first wet dream Jordan has involves him, Max, and a rather convenient wall.

     If—and only if—he ever gets together with Max, he quite desires to test it out. The idea that Max might be strong enough to hold him up and fuck him senseless against a wall is a massive turn on.

     He’s seen Max’s frame. The man’s built like a brick house, or a tank even, checking in a neat six foot four. Hell, Jordan wouldn’t be surprised if he weighs more than two hundred pounds. Whatever it is, Max is bigger than he is, and Jordan would be more than okay with being pinned.

     (Jordan does not mention the dream he has of Max pressing up against him, fingers sliding into his hair and tongue into his mouth. He doesn’t mention waking up with seed staining his inner thighs and petals clawing their way out of his lungs. And he certainly doesn’t mention rolling over in his bed and hacking viciously, his body shuddering as he coughs in an attempt to breathe again.)

     ((It’s the same with Adam. Jordan wakes up after dreaming of pinning Adam against a table, sucking hungrily at pale skin until purple blooms. He dreams of taking Adam deep into his throat, ripping soft moans and whimpers out of his shivering form. There’s just something so satisfying about wrecking someone so thoroughly, about making them scream your name and beg for more.))

     The only thing Jordan doesn’t appreciate about those wet dreams is when he wakes choking on the petals in his lungs, even more so when he doesn’t even make it halfway through one. Nor does he like it when he can’t even look the others in the face (not because he can’t face them, but because he’s worried he’ll become erect. Or, even worse, cough petals).

     He has no idea how he’d explain it to them, nor does he really want to. It’d be heartbreaking, honestly. Both Max and Adam would be losing a friend of theirs.

     Jordan doesn’t know what he’ll do. He’ll probably have his hanahaki removed, partially because he doesn’t want to die (but mainly because he doesn’t want to leave them). So maybe Jordan is a little selfish, but he doesn’t care. He just wants to be with them. His heart beats a tattoo inside of his chest, _one two one two one two_ , and with each thump he falls deeper in love. It’s so hard to speak to them without stuttering, flushing, or making a fool of himself.

     God, Jordan really wants to tell them. He wants to tell them so badly it _burns_.

     (His dreams become more and more explicit as the days pass by. There are nights where he dreams of Max; dreams of lying before before him with his legs spread wide and head tilted back, neck bared and ready for Max’s lips. Jordan dreams of Max pressing inside of him, nails leaving scratches and marks across his skin, and dreams of Adam spreading his legs wide for him. He dreams of handprints imprinted on hips and bruises sucked into smooth skin.)

_((Jordan dreams of Max and Adam._

_He wakes with petals stuck in his throat.))_

**oOo**

     Out of everything he expected to learn about Max, that he’s a fantastic cook is not one of them. Jordan doesn’t mean to disrupt him while he’s in the kitchen, but he’s more than a little bored and kinda wants to hear his voice again.

     (There’s something about Max’s voice that sends shivers down his spine. Jordan just can’t get enough of it.)

     When the call connects, Max is standing at the island in his kitchen, mixing something in a bowl with his hands. “Hey, Jordan,” he says, “did you want something?” and Jordan’s gaze is caught on the way the dough covers his fingers.

     “Uh.” Jordan’s brain stalls for a second and he shakes his head to clear it. “What are you making?”

     Max gestures to the basket of raspberries beside him and rubs the dough between his fingers. Jordan can see flour and something yellow that he assumes is butter. “Raspberry pie,” Max says. “Just making the crust now.”

     Jordan blinks, just the slightest bit curious. “Crust?”

     “All butter because I prefer it that way.” Max scowls a little and upends the bowl, dumping its contents onto the island and he begins to knead it vigorously. Jordan watches quietly for a while, admiring the way Max’s fingers work (and desperately trying to not react to it, mainly because he refuses to explain). “Things just taste so much better when they’re made by hand.”

     Jordan thinks of the pizza he’s got in his oven—store bought because he can’t really cook _that_ well—and winces. “I wish I could say that I knew what you are talking about, but I’ve got store bought pizza in my oven.”

     Max throws his head back and roars with laughter, shoulders shaking as he cackles. “You’ll have to come over sometime so I can cook for you. Give you a taste of some real good cooking.” He grins widely at Jordan, teeth flashing in the light, and it takes him a second to find his own brain again.

     (It’s not fucking fair. Max is way too handsome for his own good. The worst part is the fact that he doesn’t even seem to realize it.

     God _dammit_ , but Jordan is really fucking attracted.)

     He can feel the petals in his lungs beginning to surge upwards and Jordan stills for a second, panic lodging itself in his chest. No, no, no, no; he can’t cough in front of Max. “Excuse me for a second,” Jordan finally decides on, and somehow his voice is steady. He gets up when Max nods in agreement and moves casually out of the room, clamping down on the urge to bolt until he knows he’s out of Max’s sight, before running towards the farthest sink.

     His hands come down hard and then Jordan’s hacking, body shaking as the bloody petals spill out past his lips. Max’s flower, the clove, is much more present, overpowering the few petals of the dog rose that represents Adam, and Jordan knows it’s because Max was the one who triggered the coughing fit in the first place.

     (That’s the thing with hanahaki. When in love with more than one person, the flower that belongs to the person who triggered the attack is much more prevalent compared to the others. When Max triggers it, the petals Jordan coughs up consist mostly of cloves, with a few dog rose petals mixed in. When Adam triggers it, it’s the exact opposite.

     Either way, it still hurts like hell.)

     As soon as his lungs are empty, or at least feel like they are, Jordan flips on the water and watches the entire mess disappear down the drain. All of the adrenaline that had rushed through him, the terror at Max seeing him cough, fades, and now he’s left feeling exhausted.

     All Jordan wants to do is sleep for the next week. Maybe even for the rest of the month.

_(Max smiles at him the moment he sits back down at the computer._

_For just a moment, nothing hurts anymore._

_It won’t last long though. It never does.)_

**oOo**

**SparkleTuber** :  
Max  
Assistance please

**Maxican** :  
????

**SparkleTuber** :  
Do you have Ze’s number?

**Maxican** :  
do i want to know why?

**SparkleTuber** :  
Probably not

**Maxican** :  
…..  
Jordan…..

**SparkleTuber** :  
I just want to ask him something, okay

**Maxican** :  
i’m rolling my eyes here

**SparkleTuber** :  
Please?

**Maxican** :  
Fine  
XXX-XXXX  
but if ze gets mad, i will NOT take the blame

**SparkleTuber** :  
You’re the best, Max <3

     Three hours after Chilled and Ze confess to being a couple, and about twenty minutes after wrangling Ze’s number from Max (plus some time regretting the little heart he threw in), Jordan texts them. He knows Ze doesn’t have his number, not yet, but he figures it’s all right.

**SparkleTuber** :  
Question

**RoyalViking** :  
…..Do I know you?

**SparkleTuber** :  
It’s Jordan

**RoyalViking** :  
???

**SparkleTuber**  
It’s me???  
CaptainSparklez???

**RoyalViking** :  
Oh, sorry  
I didn’t recognize your name for a second  
Go ahead

**SparkleTuber** :  
It’s a little personal

**RoyalViking** :  
…………….  
You’re not asking about my sex life, are you?  
Cause GaLm already did that and I’m not telling

**SparkleTuber** :  
NO!  
Dear God, no

**RoyalViking** :  
Okay  
What do you want to know?

**SparkleTuber:**  
I—  
….  
What was it like being requited by your best friend?  
Even though you were dead certain that—  
that they’d never look at you the way you look at them?

     For a while, Ze doesn’t respond, and Jordan can’t help but wonder if he’s crossed some sort of invisible line. He cringes slightly and sets his phone down, taking the chance to go and wash the dishes that have been sitting in the sink for the past two and a half hours. By the time he gets back, Ze has responded.

**RoyalViking:**  
You have hanahaki for someone, don’t you.

     The worst part is that it’s not a question. For a moment, Jordan thinks Ze knows. Then he remembers that he’s never breathed a word about his hanahaki to anyone and relaxes a little.

**RoyalViking:**  
You don’t have to tell me who  
I won’t pry, I promise  
It’s like every holiday coming at once  
Like the whole world has just been gifted to you on a platter  
The world’s best roller coaster ride  
Breathtaking and exhilarating all at one  
Your heart’s pounding in your chest  
And you think it might explode from joy

**SparkleTuber:**  
That sounds wonderful

**RoyalViking** :  
It is  
I was so happy when Chilled confessed  
Even more so when we fucked

**SparkleTuber** :  
oh my goD ZE!  
TMI  
PLEASE  
I WANT TO BE ABLE TO LOOK CHILLED IN THE FACE

**RoyalViking** :  
XD  
Sorry, not sorry

**SparkleTuber** :  
Of course you aren’t sorry  
You rarely are  
Evil jerk

**RoyalViking:**  
That’s what I do best  
So…..

     Jordan swallows nervously, his throat working. He could just go ahead and—

     You know what? Fuck it. It’ll be nice to tell someone for once. To not be alone in this world. The urge to just let it out has been gnawing at him for a while anyway.

**SparkleTuber** :  
It’s Adam and Max

**RoyalViking** :  
Huh?

**SparkleTuber:**  
You asked who I had hanahaki for  
That’s who

**RoyalViking** :  
Nanners and Gassy?

**SparkleTuber** :  
Yeah

**RoyalViking** :  
You should tell them

**SparkleTuber** :  
whAT?

**RoyalViking** :  
Don’t be me, Jordan  
I’m on medication for the damage the hanahaki did to my lungs  
I almost died  
I WOULD HAVE DIED IF CHILLED HADN’T COME

**SparkleTuber** :  
I—what?  
Excuse me?

**RoyalViking**  
I was literally passed out on my kitchen floor  
He used cpr on me and got me breathing again  
I let it get that bad when I should have just told him  
Don’t be me, Jordan  
It’s not worth the pain  
If I could do it again, I’d tell Chilled so much sooner  
Trust me on this  
Just tell them  
Please

_(Jordan breathes in, closes his eyes, and steadies himself._

_He doesn’t know if he can do it.)_

**oOo**

     In the end, Jordan knows what he has to do. The prospect of telling them is terrifying, but not nearly as much as what Ze said he’d do if Jordan chickened out. Apparently, and Jordan has only the vaguest idea why, Ze has decided that Jordan won’t ever repeat _his_ mistakes, even if that means threatening him with bodily harm.

**RoyalViking** :  
I swear to God, Jordan  
Either you tell them  
or _I_ will  
and you don’t want me doing that

     No, Jordan doesn’t want Ze doing that, so when Max suggests he stay with him for a while so they can record some vlogs together, Jordan is quick to accept. It’s enforced, naturally, by Ze threatening to steal all of his chocolate. Jordan _likes_ his chocolate where it is, thank you very much, and would rather that it _didn’t_ go missing.

     (He has no doubts that Ze could make all of his chocolate disappear.)

     As the day his flight leaves looms nearer and nearer, Jordan finds himself pacing nervously, practically wearing a deep groove into the floor of his living room. It’s not that he doesn’t want to see Max, it’s that he’s incredibly nervous to do so. What if he starts coughing?

     (There’s also the fact that he’s going to be informing Max of his hanahaki. Just Max, though, as he’s definitely not ready for Adam.)

     ((Adam is a hurdle that will be handled later. Max, as the more reasonably sane, definitely not a murderer, person—Adam is a probably not a murderer, person—is the one that Jordan will be talking to first. His blood pressure needs to be a lot lower to confess to Adam. A _lot_ lower.

     He also needs to be more than a little bit drunk.))

     By the time he actually gets onto the plane, Jordan is seriously considering grabbing a bag to breathe into. His heart is beating so fast, he’s convinced that it’ll come right out of his chest, and he’s not quite sure where he’s placed his lungs. The elderly lady sitting beside him smiles gently. “Going to see someone special?” she asks.

     Jordan winces. “That obvious?”

     She smiles and says, “Just a little,” and the wrinkles on her face shift. “You obviously care about them.” There’s a pause, and then she adds, “Take a risk. The results will most likely surprise you,” then turns away and proceeds to take a nap. Jordan spends the rest of the flight absolutely speechless, his mind turning the sentence over and over again. She can’t mean what he thinks she means, right?

     Knowing his luck, she probably does. Jordan gets off of the plane, collects his stuff, and breathes in. Right. Time to go meet Max. He winds up in a nearby Starbucks and buys a coffee before settling at a table and texting Max.

**SparkleTuber** :  
I’m waiting at the Starbucks on the first floor.  
Got all my stuff with me, too.

**Maxican** :  
I’ll be right there.  
Give me a minute to find the place.

**SparkleTuber** :  
I can wait. I’ve got a coffee to drink anyway

     He settles down into a seat and unlocks his phone so he can idly scroll through Tumblr. It’s probably not the best of ideas, especially since ZeRoyalChaos has been confirmed as canon, but he doesn’t particularly care. At this point, Jordan is so used to seeing the porn that he no longer reacts even though he’ll never tell Ze or Chilled what he saw.

     (In fact, Jordan is pretty sure that both Chilled and Ze follow the ZeRoyalChaos tag.)

     “Fancy meeting you here,” a smooth bass rumbles and Jordan doesn’t even have to glance up to know it’s Max. He locks his phone and looks at him, smiling wide enough to split his face in two, and can’t contain the laugh that bubbles up in his chest.

     “Oh! Hello there, Max. I didn’t see you there.” He gets to his feet and pulls Max into a hug, enjoying his warmth and the feel of his body. Max beams at him and Jordan swallows nervously.

_(Jordan can tell Max he’s in love with him._

_He has to.)_


	3. Harlequins and Fuchsias

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do apologize for taking so long. I was having issues writing chapter 5.

     It was a goddamn accident, Max _swear_ _s_.

     (Okay, so maybe it isn’t, but he isn’t about to admit that. No one but him needs to know about his sorta, kinda, maybe crush on Adam.

     He’s just lucky it hasn’t actually evolved into hanahaki yet.)

     The whole damn incident starts not too long after they first meet, when SeaNanners giggles for the first time. It’s high and breathy, pitched like a dolphin, and it sends the entire group into hysterics. Max drops his head onto his desk, wheezing loudly, and attempts to drag air back into his aching lungs. “Jesus Christ,” he manages, “now _that’s_ a laugh.”

     Anthony cackles loudly. “That’s better than _my_ laugh!”

     “Thank you,” Nanners says, practically beaming from ear to ear. “I’m _very_ proud of it.”

     (Privately, Max thinks he’s a little bit arrogant, but that it’s actually pretty cute on him.

     He also may or may not want to run his fingers through Nanners’ hair, but that’s a different story all together, and Max will most likely take that secret with him to the _grave_.)

     Nanners’ laugh is infectious, even more so than Anthony’s, and it sends the rest of them into fits every time they hear it. Max cackles hysterically every time, sometimes laughing so hard he starts crying and has to wipe the tears out of his eyes.

     There’s no fucking way he’s going to admit it, but Max may have been in love with Nanners from the very beginning. Really, it amazes him that no one else has noticed his staring yet. Either that, or he’s really that sneaky, which is just plain stupid. There’s just something about the way Nanners smiles; something about the way he tosses his head dramatically; something about his knack for finding cheatsy spots in Prop Hunt and Hide & Seek; something about his need to play horror games, even though they terrify them.

     Something that makes his heart beat quick in his chest, even though he isn’t in love.

     Not yet, that is. But he’s getting there. When he starts spitting flower petals, then he’ll be in love again.

     It’s a wonder he hasn’t started coughing petals yet.

     (There’s quite the difference between their sizes. Nanners is smaller than him and slender in body, especially compared to Max’s hulking form. He’s six foot four and two hundred and five pounds or so of sheer muscle encased within tan flesh. If the song _Brick House_ had been written about a man, he’d be the prime example. Nanners, on the other hand, is shorter by several inches, and probably doesn’t weigh any more than one eighty, all wrapped up in pale skin. Max finds it absolutely hysterical that they’re so different, yet they share so many interests.)

     ((Max finds himself watching a ton of Nanners’ videos, laughing at each and every one of them, even the ones he’s played in. They always leave him in tears, practically wheezing for air, and Max winds up face down on his desk attempting to suck air into his lungs. It gets even better when Nanners trolls those playing with him and Max laughs so hard at the enraged screaming that he can barely play the game correctly.))

_(_ _He’s not in love._

_Not yet. But he’s getting there._

_The thought doesn’t terrify him as much as it should._ _)_

**oOo**

     Things remain the same—for the most part—for quite a while, and Max slowly gets used to the occasional tingling sensation in his chest (which, really, should have been his first warning). He laughs with Adam, and his laughter grows more hysterical the more he trolls the others. Adam’s rage is amazing as well, and Max enjoys smashing his ball over the edge whenever they play golf. It’s entertaining, far beyond belief, and while he probably shouldn’t take the amount of joy out of that he does, Max doesn’t care. It’s far too enjoyable to _not_ laugh at and he finds his moods significantly improving after listening to Adam.

     (Golfing with Adam _does not fucking count_ because he’s a _cheating bastard_. Not as bad as Smitty, but still. The best days are when Adam fails miserably, which quickly become terrible when he decides his score is unsalvageable and turns to sabotaging everyone else around him.)

     Every time Max hears Adam laugh, it brings a smile to his face. It’s kind of pathetic—tell that to his face, he dares you—but Max doesn’t care. There’s just something about him that leaves his heart beating fast, something about him that leaves Max breathless and desperately wanting more.

     He knows perfectly well that he’s chasing after something that he cannot have, but Max doesn’t care. He’s all too happy to admire Adam from a distance, watching as the other giggles and shrieks. They play The Hidden together, even though Adam’s a fucking cheat when playing the killer, and (sometimes) Max is laughing so hard he can barely play the game correctly. It’s honestly a goddamn miracle that no one else has caught on yet. Especially Adam. It’s not like Max has been very subtle about his interest, especially the way he’s been staring at his face. And that’s not even counting his minor stalking on all of Adam’s videos.

     (Max has no idea what he’ll do if Adam finds out that he has a crush on him. Freak out most likely, then maybe consider moving to another universe entirely. It’s a complicated plan that involves a rocket and lots of fuel, but he’ll get there eventually. Maybe. Assuming he doesn’t die of embarrassment first. Which would be, quite frankly, a really shitty way to go. What even would be put on his epitaph?

     The worst part is, he knows he’s kinda, sorta, maybe a little bit interested in Adam being more than just friends. That is, naturally, a lie, because Max would die happy if he got to fuck Adam senseless at least once. To have him spread out across his bed, all long limbs and pale flesh covered in bite marks. To suck hungrily on his neck, leaving bright purple blooms behind as he travels along his skin. To taste the flesh in the crook of his thighs, nipping and biting and sucking until Adam is nothing but a shivering mess lying on equally messy sheets. To spread him open with his fingers until Adam is gasping his name breathlessly, whining and pleading for more, desperately begging for Max’s cock.)

_(_ _Yeah, he has a problem. A big one._

_And it_ _definitely_ _doesn’t seem like it will be_ _going away anytime soon.)_

**oOo**

     There’s the hot sear of _jealousy_ in his chest and Max finds himself mouthing incoherent shrieks of curse-filled rage at the screen of his computer. Who is this...this _interloper_ who dares to play with Adam? Who dares to make him laugh that beautiful laugh? He scowls and unpauses the video, watching as Adam giggles wildly at the prop on screen—this...CaptainSparklez? is a can of some sort?— as it wiggles deeper into the darkness.

     Adam seems to be perfectly into encouraging him, giggling more and more hysterically as the seekers pass by Sparklez’s hiding spot again and again. _“Shut up, Nanners,”_ Sparklez hisses furiously, and Max takes delight in the fact that he doesn’t know Adam’s real name, _“if you get me caught, I swear to god I will spill where you’re hiding next round,”_ and Max laughs breathlessly at Adam’s overly dramatic huff.

_“You wouldn’t_ _fucking_ dare _, Sparkle_ _z_ _.”_

_“Try me,”_ Sparklez replies, bearing his teeth viciously, and Max takes the chance to look him over.

_“Copy this technique,”_ Adam tells him sweetly during the next round as he slides a newspaper underneath the couch, _“_ _and_ _file it under ‘fuck you’,”_ and CaptainSparklez laughs loudly.

     (The interloper isn’t just as pretty as Adam, no way, no how, and Max totally doesn’t stare at him with wide eyes. He doesn’t watch this CaptainSparklez’s videos in order to hear his voice some more, and he doesn’t watch every video where he and Adam game together.

     Max does _not_ have a problem thank-you-very-much, nor is he developing a crush on someone else he can’t have.)

     ((Okay, that’s a lie and he really shouldn’t try to lie to himself like that. The last time that happened, Max nearly got himself killed.

     Yeah, there’s a backstory there involving an old ex-girlfriend who owed a shit-ton of cash to the mafia and him ignoring all of the red-flags. She’d tried to sell him to the group in an attempt to get away with not repaying the money, and Max somehow wound up getting out in one piece. They’d pitied his situation and Max had become friends with them; he still keeps in contact with them, even has the leader’s number on his cell, (who he occasionally texts). If he’s being honest, he’d rather not talk about it. There’s no need to make their connection obvious.

     He would very much rather _not be_ the reason why their group is destroyed, thank-you-very-much. Spending a couple hours in one of their jail cells was quite enough for him, and he’d very much prefer to not do it again.))

     Clicking on another video, Max leans back in his chair and watches as CaptainSparklez attempts to make some ridiculous jump in Minecraft, only to miss and curse loudly. It’s actually incredibly entertaining to watch, because Sparklez chatters happily away, pausing only to grumble darkly whenever he fails. It takes him three hours of watching random videos to learn that CaptainSparklez’s real name is Jordan and that he also has a music channel, MaronMusic. He also discovers that Jordan is really kinda addicted to Minecraft, as he spends quite a bit of time playing the game. It’s really cute, actually.

_(Max does not have a ‘tiny’ problem._

_He has a_ _n_ _enormous one.)_

**oOo**

     The fact that he has a ‘tiny’ problem becomes very much apparent approximately a week and a half later. It’s just the three of them playing golf—Adam having introduced Max to Jordan earlier that morning—and they’re in the process of teaching him how to play. Jordan is, oddly enough, actually pretty decent at it, except for when the level itself fucks him over.

     Max snorts and takes his next shot, scowling a little when the wood bar rotates and cocks his shot entirely, and he curses, muttering, “Can’t I land a goddamn shot?”

     “Apparently not,” Adam returns sweetly, smirking as he nails Max’s ball hard enough to send it bouncing back to the beginning.

     “You son of a _bitch_!” Max bellows, twisting his camera around and smashing his ball into Adam’s own. It ricochets off of a rock and slides straight off of the edge. The sounds of Adam’s scream of rage is music to Max’s ears and he grins wide enough to split his cheeks in two. Off to the side, Jordan laughs breathlessly and takes his own shot, his golfball neatly dropping into the hole to land him a eagle.

     “And I take the lead!” he calls, his voice nearly destroyed from the force of his laughter, and Max can see his throat work as he drains a glass of water. Adam growls furiously, mainly because it’s the last hole and him fucking with Max cost him the game, and he thunks his head against his desk.

     Jordan leaves shortly after—he has some things he has to take care of—and leaves Max alone in a call with Adam. He swallows nervously and licks his lips, watching as Adam silently rages about Jordan’s win. “Beginner’s luck?” Max tries during a moment where Adam is quiet.

     Adam scowls. “Definitely beginners luck.” His eyes gleam darkly and he smiles. It’s all teeth and sends shivers down Max’s spine. “It won’t happen again. I’ll see about that.”

     Max swallows nervously. “You sound like you’re planning something incredibly evil, Adam.”

     “Who, me?” Adam says innocently, “evil? Never!” and immediately breaks into hysterical giggles.

     “Well, I wish you luck, then.” Max licks his lips and logs off, dropping his head into his hands as the screen goes black. There’s a tickle in his throat and he has the sinking feeling that he knows exactly what this is. Pushing back from his computer, he closes his eyes and whimpers. Max’s lungs are burning and he leaps to his feet, stumbles into the kitchen, plants his hands on the sink, and leans over. The cough comes out roughly, burning his chest, and he hacks viciously.

     Flowers spill out between his lips, splattering the metal with blood-stained, multicolored petals. Max feels his heart sink, and he closes his eyes and attempts to breath. “This can’t be fucking happening,” he whispers, slowly reaching down to grasp one of the petals. It’s mostly red with a black triangle about two thirds of the way down, the bottom a shade of bright yellow.

_(His stomach drops and he’s fairly certain he’s no longer breathing._

_Max’s lungs_ burn _.)_

**oOo**

     Max has two more coughing fits and spends three days researching flowers before he finds out exactly what he’s coughing up. The petals are that of the harlequin flower, Latin _Sparaxis bulbifera_ , and they mean “laugh at trouble” which suits Adam unfairly well. He leans back in his chair and picks up one of the petals he has lying on his desk, turning it slowly in the air. The blood that still stains the soft petal has an odd sort of glitter to it and Max scowls. Such a pretty thing, yet so deadly.

     Eventually, once he’s no longer able to cough up the petals clogging his lungs, he will suffocate on his own breath. It’s a sad way to go, especially considering that this disease is easy to get rid of, but Max could never get rid of his love for Adam.

     He loves him too much to lose the feelings burning in his heart and the fact that Max would never be able to love Adam again scares him more than his own death. There is no regret in his heart, that he knows well, and Max looks forward to all of the moments that they’ll spend together (even if Adam doesn’t know about his love for him).

     If there’s one thing Max knows, he’ll never tell anyone about his hanahaki. It’s his own personal life and he doesn’t particularly want the others to see him in this state. Less because it’s his personality and more because he doesn’t want his friends to worry about him. Max always feels bad when his friends worry about him, like he failed to hold up to his stoic persona.

     Adam is like the sun to him, though Jordan is quickly becoming the surrounding stars. Max has no problem admitting that he’s more than a little bit interested in Jordan.

     Things get worse: they always get worse.

     It’s a round of Prop Hunt, one they’ve been playing for several hours, and Max is reaching his limit. He snarls as his latest prop is shot and leans back in his chair, half-tempted to hurl his headphones at the wall. Jordan giggles, bright and loud, and says, “Dammit, Max! You’ve abandoned me!”

     Hearing Jordan’s voice makes Max’s mood instantly improve and he laughs, feeling something tight in his chest uncurl. He smiles softly and shifts his headphones enough to run a hand through his hair. “I didn’t _mean_ to abandon you.”

     “I know you didn’t,” Jordan says, sweetly, “Adam’s just a fucking cheat,” and Max roars with laughter when Adam splutters furiously. They part on good terms, Max snickering gleefully at Adam’s affronted look, and he logs off in good cheer.

     It’s only when he’s halfway to his bedroom, mind still stuck on Jordan, when the tickle in his throat overflows. Max bolts for the sink, frantic, and leans over it, chest heaving as he hacks up the petals collecting in his lungs. As soon as he can breath again, he eyes the sink, gaze narrowed.

     There, lying innocently across the bottom, are the usual ones. The ones he knows are harlequin petals that belong to Adam. Beside them lie something that makes his heart still in his breast and his skin grow cold.

     It’s a flower made up of pink petals surrounding what looks like a purple-colored bell containing five to six petals, and Max doesn’t even have to do research to know that _this_ flower is. His mother used to grow them when he was a kid as they were her favorite, and even now he still remembers the name. Fuchsia.

     Max still researches what they mean, though. They’re Jordan’s flower—obviously for him, because Max does _not_ have an interest in anyone else—and the meanings that he finds suits the smaller man well. It starts with “the ambition of my love plagues itself” and leads into “amiability”, then shifts to “confiding love” and “frugality”, before finally ending with “good taste” and “humble love”. Somehow, they all suit Jordan unfairly well.

_(One thing still worries him, though._

_He’s coughing up_ two _separate kinds of petals now._

_Just how long will he last?)_

**oOo**

     They’re playing golf again, and Jordan is doing amazingly well. Max is having the time of his life. Adam, on the other hand, _is not_ _having fun_ , and he shrieks wordlessly when his ball is smashed off of the map for the umpteenth time by Jordan. Max roars with laughter and nearly chokes on the water he’s drinking, letting it dribble out of his mouth and back into the glass in an attempt to keep from spilling it everywhere. He drops his head onto his desk with a thunk and _wheezes_ for breath, struggling to suck air into his lungs.

     “God fucking dammit, Jordan! Will you fucking _stop_?!” Adam bellows and the words make it even harder for Max to breathe.

     “That fucking does it. I’m making you my boyfriend. Date me, Jordan,” Max manages through his wheezing, only to freeze seconds later when the words register. ‘Oh, _no_ ,’ he thinks when the call goes dead silent, and he somehow manages to keep from blanching to a color a ghost would be proud of.

     Jordan stares at him with wide eyes and he laughs shakily, nervously reaching up to scratch at the back of his head. “I, ah… Interesting offer, Max.”

     Adam looks like he’s swallowed a lemon. “Yes,” he begins, flatly, “what an interesting offer.”

     Max laughs again, swallowing the lump in his throat and breathing slowly in an attempt to keep from having a full on panic attack. In the back of his head, there's something frantically screaming, the words blurry and unintelligible, and there’s really only one way he can take this: Worse. “Don’t worry, Adam, I’ll date you too,” he says, beaming widely. It’s incredibly fake but no one but himself needs to know that.

     Adam’s frame shifts, something in his form relaxing, and he laughs again, this time more genuine, and says,“You’re such an ass.” Jordan laughs, too, and runs a hand through his hair.

     (The only problem is that Max isn’t lying. He wants to date both men. It’s why he has hanahaki for the both of them in the first place. Love in his heart and petals in his lungs. His chest _burns_.

     He takes a fifteen minute break away from his computer to hack two different kinds of flowers from his lungs. The damn disease has progressed a lot quicker now that he’s in love with two separate people and Max is wondering if he’s going to ever make it. It would be a goddamn dream if he was requited by Jordan _and_ Adam, but something tells Max that he’s just fucked up pretty badly with those words.)

     Max is quiet for the rest of the game, not even bothering to sabotage anyone else even when he has amazing chances, and it’s blatantly obvious to the other two that something is bothering him. Jordan gnaws on his bottom lip as he hesitates, unsure as to whether or not he should speak. Adam, on the other hand, can’t give less of a fuck, and asks, “What the _fuck_ is wrong, Max? You’ve been dead silent.”

_(He doesn’t answer._

_Max doesn’t know how to answer._

_He doesn’t even know where to begin.)_

**oOo**

     After discovering that he’s hopelessly in love with both Adam and Jordan, Max’s dreams quickly head into the “R” rated territory. He wakes up several times during the night, completely soaked through, sweat beading on his skin and his dick as hard as a rock. Rolling over and screaming into his pillow is generally how he chooses to handle that, along with pretending that nothing is wrong.

     Max’s dreams usually involve pinning Adam to the bed and spreading him wide, dragging breathy sighs and moans out of his throat. He entertains the idea of making Jordan beg, of reducing him to a pleading mess. It’s something that flickers through his mind late at night. Sometimes Max wonders what Adam or Jordan would look like completely blissed out, eyes hooded and lips parted as they breathe raggedly. He considers the idea of them spread out on his bed, long limbs wrapped around his body.

     (He very much likes the idea of Adam clinging to him tightly, gasping and moaning with every thrust, or Jordan on his knees in front of him, lips wrapped tightly around his cock. Max very much likes the thought of spilling his cum across Jordan’s face, smearing soft skin with his seed. He bets that Adam would look even prettier with his pale inner thighs stained white.)

     Okay, so maybe Max has a bit of a problem. But that’s okay. As long as Jordan and Adam stay far away from him, he can handle coughing up petals and wishing that they were lying in his bed alongside him. Max wishes they would keep him warm on cool nights, wishes he could cook for them and share his family’s recipes, wishes he could game with them in the same room, sharing their wins and mourning their loses.

     Max wants to kiss them both senseless, to taste their lips after they’ve binged on hot chocolate and ice cream, to taste their skin when their limbs are tangled together.

     (He wants it so badly it hurts.)

     It does not help that after every wet dream, Max wakes up choking on the flowers in his throat. He starts keeping a bucket by his bed, just so he can roll over and heave into it, red and pink and purple petals spilling past his lips. There’s more blood than there used to be, a sure sign that the disease is spreading, and all he wants to be able to do is breathe freely again.

_(Max also wants to be able to love Adam and Jordan freely, but that’s another story._

_Being able to breathe again is a bigger concern.)_

**oOo**

     The two weeks after Ze posts the video explaining that he’s dying of hanahaki are the absolute worst. Chilled texts him almost constantly for a while before dropping off of the map entirely and Max just about pulls his hair out in sheer panic. He comes very close to buying tickets of his own and flying out to Ze’s place, if only so he can make sure that his Canadian friend is all right.

     And when Ze appears on Chilled’s stream and admits that the two of them had hanahaki for each other, along with the fact that the both of them are now cured of the disease, Max sags with relief.

     (It’s not just the fact that he’s okay, but also because now Max can talk to him about his own issues.)

     Three days later, he texts Ze for the first time since his disappearance.

**Maxican:  
** Can I ask you something?

**RoyalViking** :  
You don’t need to ask, Max

**Maxican** :  
What was it like to have hanahaki for so long?  
To be in love with your best friend?  
But unable to do anything about it?

**RoyalViking** :  
Who do you have hanahaki for?

**Maxican** :  
……  
Who says I have hanahaki?

**RoyalViking** :  
I’m rolling my eyes here, Max. Who’s it for?

**Maxican** :  
………

**RoyalViking** :  
It’s all right if you don’t want to tell me  
Having it for your best friend is like….  
It’s the best/worst feeling ever  
Like you’re flying...

**Maxican** :  
But you could fall at any second

**RoyalViking** :  
Exactly  
And then Chilled requited me and suddenly I was among the clouds

**Maxican** :  
……  
I have hanahaki for Adam and Jordan

**RoyalViking** :  
SeaNanners and CaptainSparklez?

**Maxican** :  
Yeah  
Harlequins and fuchsias  
What do I do?

**RoyalViking** :  
That’s up to you, Max  
I can’t tell you what to do  
I can wish you good luck, though

     Max huffs a soft laugh and wishes Ze goodnight. He’s halfway through closing out of his contacts when his eyes catch sight of Chilled’s number and he licks his lips nervously. Now that he thinks about it, maybe he should get Chilled’s perspective while he’s at it.

**Maxican** :  
Hey, I kinda wanna ask you something, but also not

**ChillyDude** :  
should i be concerned

**Maxican** :  
It’s rather personal

**ChillyDude** :  
i swear to god max.  
just fucking ask already

**Maxican** :  
Fine. Jesus.  
What was it like having hanahaki for Ze?

**ChillyDude** :  
jesus christ max  
i thought you wanted to talk about something else  
um. it’s like reaching for the sky but not being able to leave the earth

**Maxican** :  
Like trying to fly, but knowing you could hit the ground at any moment  
And when you’re requited, you suddenly find yourself up among the stars

**ChillyDude** :  
EXACTLY

**Maxican** :  
I asked Ze earlier

**ChillyDude** :  
that explains the deepness

**Maxican** :  
Fuck you! I can be deep!

**ChillyDude** :  
deep as the ocean max but ze’s always had a way with words

**Maxican** :  
……  
I can’t deny that

**ChillyDude:**  
anything else?  
like who you have hanahaki for?

**Maxican:**  
Why are you and Ze so damn perceptive?

**ChillyDude:  
** because we’re awesome like that  
so? feel like telling?

**Maxican:**  
I hate you so much  
……  
Fine  
It’s Adam and Jordan

**ChillyDude:  
** seananners and sparklez?  
….. waitaminute **  
** holy shit two at once?

**Maxican:**  
So?

**ChillyDude:  
** so youre coughing two sets of petals at once  
that’s twice the bullshit ze and i went through  
dude how far has the disease progressed?  
please tell me you won’t up and die on us

**Maxican:**  
I can’t promise anything, Chilled. You know how Adam is  
I’d have more luck with Jordan

**ChillyDude:  
** so confess to jordan dammit

     Max frowns and stares down at the words. It seems so simple. Just pull up Discord, call Jordan, and tell him. Let the words spill out of his mouth and get it all out onto the table. Sighing heavily, he shuts off his phone and tosses it onto a table, then turns to go and take a nap. At this point, all he wants is to be able to breathe without choking on his own lungs.

_(Go confess to Jordan, huh?_

_Max wishes it was that simple._

_It really isn’t, though.)_

**oOo**

     One of the worst (best) times of Max’s life is when Jordan flies out to his place so they can record a vlog or two together. Max heads out to the airport to pick him up, heart thumping rapidly in his chest, and he swallows nervously as he parks and heads in. The difference between being close to Jordan and far away from him is about a hundred miles, and Max _is not ready for this_. His heart isn’t ready to be so close to Jordan and he feels like it could explode at any second.

     Max’s hanahaki is bad enough when they aren’t close to each other—what with him coughing petals almost every day now—and Max doesn’t know if he can take being in close vicinity to Jordan for whatever amount of time he stays. Max just knows he’s going to be coughing viciously for a little while. Hopefully both sets of petals won’t kill him. He doesn’t want to do that to Jordan.

     His phone vibrates and he pulls it out as he walks through the airport, absently checking it. Jordan’s name pops up, the message mostly cut off by the edge of his screen.

**SparkleTuber:**  
I’m waiting at the Starbucks on the first floor.  
Got all my stuff with me, too.

**Maxican:  
** I’ll be right there.  
Give me a minute to find the place.

**SparkleTuber:**  
I can wait. I’ve got a coffee to drink anyway

     Max snorts and puts his phone to sleep, slipping it into a pocket. The Starbucks that Jordan’s at is, more or less, completely across the airport, and Max casually makes his way over to the café. Jordan is sitting at one of the tables, lazily scrolling through his phone, and Max takes the chance to head up to the counter. He’s been craving something from here anyway and he’s going to take the chance to get one while he can. Taking his drink from the lady manning the counter with a smile and a polite, “Thank you,” Max saunters over to where Jordan is sitting.

     “Fancy meeting you here,” he says with a smirk, and Jordan’s head comes up.

     A bright smile crosses his face and he laughs, running a hand through his hair. “Oh! Hello there, Max. I didn’t see you there.” Jordan stands up and pulls him into a hug, beaming widely, and Max’s chest _aches_. He laughs and grabs some of Jordan’s bags, hauling them up as he turns to head towards his car.

     “Grab your drink, Jordan, and let’s go.”

     Jordan laughs and trails after him, carrying both of their drinks, and drops into the passenger seat of his car. “This is going to awesome!” He laughs, bright and free, and Max’s smile is suddenly no longer fake.

     His chest aches, though, and the sensation will probably never leave.

_(_ _Max’_ _s_ _lungs burn._

_Telling Jordan is just as hard as he thought it would be.)_

**oOo**

     Jordan is at his place for three days when things change completely.

     “There’s something I want to tell you.”

     Max looks up from where he’s stirring potato soup on the stove, and turns his gaze to the other man sitting at the island in his kitchen. There’s something off about Jordan’s stance, worry and nervousness filling it to the brim. It’s unusual to see him this anxious about something and Max flicks the stove off before turning his attention towards him.

     “You know I’ll listen to anything you want me to, right?” he asks, curiously raising a brow. “So, fire away.”

     Jordan swallows nervously and leans against the counter he’s sitting at, licking his lips slowly. Max follows the motions of the pink tongue with his eyes, fighting back the urge to lean over and tangle it with his own. “I...I have hanahaki,” Jordan finally says, and Max’s blood runs cold. The spoon in his hand clatters against the counter top, splattering it with thickened milk.

     “Oh,” he hears himself say, and somehow his voice is steady despite the fact that his mind is furiously screaming, ‘It’s not fair; it’s not _fair_ ; it’s _not fucking fair_!’ “Are you going to tell them?”

_(Though the roar of the blood in his ears, he hears the words._

“ _It’s for you,” Jordan whispers,_ _staring down at the counter_ _. “It’s always been you.”)_


	4. Red Salvia

     For a moment, just a heartbeat, Max is frozen where he stands. Jordan’s words echo in his head, bouncing around in his skull and smashing against his brain.

     Y̸͍̪̪͉͝o̷̐͝ͅü̴̳̳͂̒,̷͕̲̰̭̇̔ ̴͚̱̺͚̃͌́y̶̩̫̭͋̽͐ö̷̢͎̿̓ư̴̌ͅ,̷͖͔̠͇͂͒͋ ̸̱̫̫̫͌͗̈͝y̷͍̟͗͗̓o̵͎͉͒̊͐u̴̲̎̌͑,̷̡̛̲̭̱̿̋̚ ̴͙̗̃͋y̴͚̗͝ͅo̵̖͋͝u̵̩̘͒͠;̸͉̞͆͝ ̶̩̅̇͐i̴̘t̶͓̏̒’̶̛̭̌s̵̛̖͍͐ ̷̙͙̿͜a̶̤͉͊l̵̪͕̹͗w̶̧̦̳̆͂̃ả̵̯̪͊̓ͅy̶͖͋͒̈s̵̞̼͔͂̿ ̴͇͎̺̅̾̂͜͝ḃ̸͎e̷͈̫̿̚è̵̛̜̍ň̷̨̳̭̎̇̈́ ̵̳̳̞̖̌͌̑f̵̼́̽̚͝o̵̺̜̍͗̏̐r̴̫͊̽ ̴̬̍̕ẙ̷̻ò̷̲̝̦̉̕u̷̼̣͍̅͗̊.̸̻͊̒

      Through the haze of shock he can see Jordan stumbling to his feet, bolting straight for the door, and Max shakes it off. He can’t let Jordan flee from this, can’t let him leave when he’s just learned the truth. Jordan’s halfway across the living room by the time Max can refocus and he vaults his kitchen island and races after him. Being significantly faster, and far more willing to jump over his own furniture, Max catches Jordan by the front door and slams it shut, pinning the smaller man between him and the wood. “Where do you think you’re going?” he asks, and his breath is rapid in his lungs.

      Jordan’s eyes are huge and he looks like he wants to be anywhere but there. “I—”

      Max breathes in slowly and leans in, gently pressing their lips together and cutting off anything he’s going to say. Jordan breathes in sharply and Max takes the chance to taste the inside of his mouth, mapping it out like the other’s going to up and disappear on him. His hands drop away from the door and slide down, draping over Jordan’s ass and down his thighs, and Max hauls him up.

      A yelp escapes Jordan’s throat and he wraps his legs around Max’s waist, arms coming up to clutch at his shoulders, and Max presses him against the door so he can mouth hungrily at the skin of his throat. “Mine, mine, mine, mine, mine,” he breathes, and sinks his teeth into the meat of Jordan’s shoulder.

      Jordan arches against him, head falling back against the door as he keens, high and needy, and Max can’t stop the snarl that builds in his chest. “Max...”

      “Fuck this.” Max grinds their hips together and hauls Jordan up, turning towards his bedroom. “I can’t take this anymore,” he murmurs, dropping Jordan onto his bed and pressing hungry kisses against his jaw. “This might trigger my own hanahaki for you, but whatever.”

      “You had hanahaki for me?” Jordan manages, pushing Max’s face away enough so he can ask the question.

      “Does it matter?”

      A soft sigh escapes Jordan’s lips and he presses his face against Max’s neck, running his tongue across the skin there. “Not really,” he decides. “I mean, it’s not like I have any place to talk. I was head over fucking heels for you.”

      “Since when?” Max raises a single brow and runs a hand through Jordan’s hair, gently ruffling it.

      Jordan shrugs. “Sometime between us meeting and me calling you on Discord while you were cooking.”

      Max does the math and clicks his tongue. “That’s like a month’s difference, Jordan.” He pauses before adding, “And you waited that long to tell me?”

      “Don’t look at me like that.” Jordan rolls his eyes. “You’re the one who’s too fucking attractive for their own good.”

      “How on earth did we go from trying to suck each other’s faces off to talking about our hanahaki?”

      Leaning against Max, Jordan shrugs, then breathes in his scent and enjoys his warmth.

_(He never expected this to come from confessing._

_This is nice.)_

**oOo**

      Max is warm, incredibly so, and Jordan wakes up curled within his arms. They’re lying in the center of the bed, their legs tangled together, and Jordan presses in closer. Max’s grip tightens and he tucks his face against tan skin, just enjoying the sensation.

      His lungs don’t burn nearly quite as much as they did before, and Jordan knows that if he coughs, only pink petals will come up. He has, after all, been requited by Max.

      (Most of last night was spent exploring each other’s skin, the silence of the evening filled with quiet, ‘I love you’s.)

      They don’t move from the bed for a while, just basking in each other’s company. When they do get up, after spending almost three hours wrapped around each other, Max cheerfully whips up breakfast for them (even though it’s well after noon by the time they actually leave the bed), and the two of them spend the rest of the day watching movies.

      (Jordan makes popcorn and curls up next to him, not minding in the least when Max drapes an arm over his shoulder just so he can steal some. They also share beer from a single glass, but he doesn’t mention that either.)

      The movies they watch are random, ranging from horror (that leaves Jordan shrieking and pressing even closer to Max), to action (with enough blood and guts that they eye the screen with mild disgust), to cheesy romance (which has the two of them rolling their eyes).

      It’s after the eighth movie, one with enough explosions and car chases to make Jordan giddy with adrenaline and Max hoarse from laughing too hard, when Max’s phone goes off. He accepts the call and puts it on speakerphone, leaning back against the couch and pulling Jordan closer. “Hello?”

      “Heya, motherfucker!” Chilled calls, and Max rolls his eyes.

      “You’re on speakerphone, ya fuck, so watch what you say.” Beside him, Jordan covers his mouth and snickers quietly.

      “Oh, for the love of—” someone mutters, and it takes half a second for the voice to register as Ze.

      Max rolls his eyes. “Don’t even try to control Chilled, Ze. It’s not going to work, ya know.”

      Ze sighs. “You think I don’t know that?” he asks, huffing in amusement, and Jordan’s laughter becomes harder to hide when Chilled yelps in offense. He buries his face in Max’s side and barely manages to keep it together, muffling his cackling in fabric.

      Chilled cracks his neck. “I hear laughter. Is someone else there?”

      Jordan grins, then yawns widely. “I’m here, too, Chilled. Max and I are recording some vlogs.” He shakes his head and glances at the several empty beer bottles on the table. “I think the beer has finally gotten to me. I’m definitely tipsy. More so than I’d actually like, considering that the room is spinning a little.”

      “Same,” Max admits. “I’m mildly drunk as well. I should probably stop.”

      “What on _earth_ are you two doing?” Ze sounds like he wants to peer around the room.

      “Watching movies and getting fairly drunk while we’re at it.”

      “Any particular reason?”

      Max snorts and tugs Jordan close, taking advantage of the lack of camera to seal their lips together. “Oh,” he says when he finally pulls away, leaving behind a breathless, flushed, glassy-eyed Jordan, “no reason at all.”

_(No reason at all._

_Certainly not because he loves Jordan’s company.)_

**oOo**

      It’s not fucking fair. Jordan has incredible hip bones and Max desperately wants to get his hands on them. He wants to shove Jordan’s chest against a wall and press up against him, just so he can tightly grab those hips and leave marks across his neck. The first time Jordan steps out of the shower with nothing but a towel on, Max, who’s in the kitchen making dinner, stares so much he gouges his hand open with a deboning knife and doesn’t react in the least, blood dripping down onto the counter.

      Jordan, on the other hand, freaks, and then promptly spends the next five minutes fixing Max’s hand.

      Max is too busy staring at the way Jordan’s towel slips down his hips and parts on his thighs, revealing his skin. He barely feels the pain in his hand, far more interested in the way Jordan’s fingers wrap the bandage around his palm. It’s only when Jordan snaps the first-aid kit shut and waves his hand in front of his face does Max refocus.

      “I’m sorry? What did you say?”

      “Max,” Jordan says, frowning a little, “I asked if you were all right?”

      “Yeah, it doesn’t hurt. Deboning knife cuts tend not to hurt.” Max turns his hand around and examines Jordan’s work. “You did good.”

      Jordan tilts his head sideways and eyes Max. “So what distracted you?” he asks and Max breathes in, his gaze flickering quickly towards the towel. “Oh.” Jordan’s lips twist upwards and he laughs, a smile stretching across his face. “I see.” He pushes Max back onto the couch and moves to straddle his hips, the white towel spreading open even wider, and all Max can do is swallow. There’s so much flesh on view right now and Max’s brain is _frying_.

      (He never thought Jordan would be this forward.)

      ((Well, he should have expected it. What Jordan wants, Jordan tends to get and Max finds that he doesn’t mind it at all.))

      His breathing picks up a little, heart beating a little in his chest, and Jordan seals their lips together. “You fucking minx,” Max murmurs, hands coming up to grip at Jordan’s hips. The smile Jordan flashes is full of teeth and more than a little mischief, and he grinds down hard. A snarl escapes Max’s chest, low and deep, and he bucks up against Jordan.

      “It’s what I do best,” Jordan tells him, breathless and flushed, and slides off his lap so he can settle between his knees. Max spreads his thighs and leans back against the back of the couch, watching through hooded eyes as Jordan tugs his jeans open and presses the palm of his hand against the bulge in his boxers.

      “Hey, now, that’s not fucking fair.” Max groans and tilts his head back. He can feel Jordan’s hands on his thighs, even through the fabric of his jeans, and shudders when his boxers are pulled away. His cock slaps against his stomach, hot and heavy, and Max slides an eye open when Jordan breathes in sharply. The first lick is experimental, a brush of a tongue against the underside that sends shivers down Max’s spine, and he growls. “Again: Not fucking fair.”

      Jordan’s smirk is pure evil, but somehow just as incredibly hot, and he responds, “Of course I’m not fair. I want you screaming,” and he mouthes at the tip and pulls the head into his mouth, shoving his tongue into the slit and sucking hard. Max jerks, head hitting the backrest of the couch as he groans, and Jordan moves on to sliding Max’s cock down his throat.

      “Fucking evil.”

_(Jordan is very much evil._

_Max is definitely okay with that.)_

**oOo**

      It takes them approximately three weeks and four days to stumble upon the realization that they both have hanahaki for Adam, and Jordan desperately wants to find the nearest wall and slam his head against it. How on earth did they not _notice_? He has no idea how they didn’t.

      They discover the fact on a completely normal morning when they’re playing with Adam and a few other people—Chilled, Ze, Panda, Vanoss, and Tyler—and Jordan wonders why they didn’t see it coming. Of all games, they’re playing golf again and Tyler’s already screaming in rage, and Adam’s giggling almost hysterically.

      “Fuck you, you son of a bitch!” Tyler bellows when his ball is bopped off of an edge and he smashes his hand against his desk hard enough that stuff crashes to the ground. “YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”

      Adam cackles loudly and taps his ball into the hole for an eagle, and there’s a smirk on his face that makes Jordan’s heart beat rapidly in his chest. Max laughs and flashes a smile, running his hands through his hair, but there’s a certain discomfort on his face that wasn’t there before. “Excuse me,” he says,“I gotta do something and I’ll be right back.”

      “All right, Max.” Adam waves him off absentmindedly, already busily setting up the next game.

      Jordan frowns a little, a little suspicion niggling in the back of his head. “I’m gonna take the chance to grab something to eat,” and gets up from his seat. They’d compared places and Max wound up moving into his home, joining him in LA, and his recording room is just down the hall from Jordan’s own. When he checks, it’s empty.

      Max, when Jordan finds him, is leaning over the kitchen sink, coughing hard enough that he’s shaking a couple of the lighter objects on the counter, and Jordan can see the petals that fall from his lips. “Max?” Jordan asks, watching as he jerks, spits into the sink, and then wipes his mouth clean.

      “Jordan?”

      Curious, Jordan checks the petals in the sink. They’re mostly red with a black triangle about two thirds of the way down, the bottom a shade of bright yellow, and they’re stained in blood. “Who are these for?”

      There’s a slight hesitation in Max’s movements before he sighs, shoulders slumping. “Adam,” he confesses quietly, looking unsure.

      Oh. Oh. _Oh._ That explains a lot, actually, and Jordan takes comfort in the fact that he’s not alone in his crush on Nanners. His lips twist upwards and a laugh escapes him. “Max…. I have the stupid disease for Adam, too.”

      For a second Max doesn’t react, but then his eyes blow wide as the words register in his head. He splutters, “I—uh, what?”

      Jordan snorts. “Exactly what I said, Max. I have hanahaki for Adam.” He twists the flower petal he’s got pinched between two fingers around and examines it carefully. “What flower is this, anyway? I don’t recognize it.”

      Max rinses his mouth out and spits pale red water into the sink. Jordan watches it vanish down the drain. “A harlequin. Means ‘laughs at trouble’.”

      “That sounds like Adam.”

      Another mouthful of water is spat out and then Max wipes his mouth dry, wrinkling his nose in distaste. “Ugh. I can still taste iron.” He eyes Jordan for a second and then nods decisively. “Your flowers?”

      “Dog roses,” Jordan replies. “Though I don’t know what they mean.”

      Max drapes an arm over Jordan’s shoulder and steers him out of the kitchen. “We can do that later. For now, we need to get back to the others.”

      “Yeah.”

_(They look later._

‘ _Mixed feelings’ and ‘pleasure and pain’._

_Well, that’s not ominous at all.)_

**oOo**

      It begins when they wake up that morning, legs as tangled as ever even though Jordan has shifted away sometime in the night, and Max rolls over so he can tug him closer. Dark eyes flicker open and Max gives him a gentle smile. “Good morning, Sparklez.”

      Jordan stretches lazily, back arching, and Max’s mouth goes dry almost instantly. “Good morning,” he returns, lips curving up into a sly smile. He leans over and presses a gentle kiss to Max’s temple, then taps their foreheads together. “Shall I cook, or will you?”

      Max physically winces. “No offense, doll, but you aren’t exactly the best chef in the world.” He shrugs and runs his hand through his hair. “How about you assist me?” he asks, and Jordan laughs.

      “I can’t deny that I’m kinda terrible in the kitchen,” Jordan says, and he doesn’t look the slightest bit embarrassed. “Remember when I nearly ruined your cast iron frying-pan?”

      “The good one my mother gave me?”

      “That’s the one.”

      The look Max gives him is incredibly flat, soul-searing, and affectionate all at the same time and Jordan laughs softly and gives him a beaming smile. “How could I forget?” he says with a sigh. “Reminder: Cast iron frying-pans _do not_ get washed with soap.”

      Jordan sheepishly rubs the back of his head and giggles nervously. “Right.”

      Max untangles their legs and gently shoves Jordan off of the bed, laughing when the other squawks in offense. “Come on, ya ass. Let’s get cooking,” he says as he stands up and makes his way over to the closet. There’s a strangled squeak from behind him, almost like Jordan’s swallowing his tongue at the sight of Max’s ass, and he can’t stop the smirk from crawling across his face. “Are you coming?” Max bends over to pull on a pair of sweatpants—another noise, like Jordan is whimpering at the sight of him—and pulls them up to the sound of a heavy sigh.

      “I wish I was,” Jordan mutters, and Max has the faintest idea that he wasn’t supposed to hear that.

      His smirk widens. “Oh, trust me, Jordan. Let’s go eat, and then you _will_ be coming.” Max throws those words over his shoulder as he leaves the room, feeling rather proud of himself.

      Another strangled sound and then Jordan’s leaping to his feet, scrambling to grab a pair of pants and bolting down the hall after Max.

      They spend quite a while in the kitchen, ranging from actually cooking to making out on the island and nearly burning the eggs while they’re at it, and it ends with them feeding each other until their breakfast is gone. The dishes are tackled next, with Jordan standing at the sink and Max pressed up against him, and they stand there for a while after everything has been washed, just enjoying each other’s company.

      As soon as Max is reasonably pleased with the state of the kitchen, they curl up together on the couch and Jordan slides straight into Max’s lap. “Well,” he says, lips curving up into a sly smile, I believe you promised me a little bit of fun.”

_(Max swallows, his throat bobbing._

_This should be interesting.)_

**oOo**

      Max does eventually get his hands on Jordan’s hips, though it takes him a little while to do so.

      (Or rather, it takes him time to gather the courage needed to haul Jordan into his bedroom, strip him completely, and then drag him onto his lap and demand a ride.

      Correction: Jordan strips, slides into _his_ lap, and then asks if _he_ wants a ride. The answer is a yes, of course. It always is.

      In a matter of heartbeats, Max winds up lying flat on his back on his bed, Jordan on his lap and bouncing slowly, and all he can do is clutch at Jordan’s hips.)

      ((Considering how it winds up, the day starts off rather boring.))

      They wake up pressed against each other with Max on his back and Jordan snuggled against him, using his chest as a pillow. It’s incredibly comfortable, wrapped around each other like this, and Max doesn’t ever want it to stop, doesn’t ever want to move. He needs a shower, though, and Max carefully untangles their bodies and drags himself to his feet. Jordan whines softly and curls up in the warm spot Max leaves behind; it’s cute enough that he covers his mouth and laughs softly.

      When Max gets out of the shower, Jordan is still asleep, curled up in the center of the bed where he had been earlier. His lips curve upwards and he drops the towel onto the floor, settling beside Jordan on the bed. “Hey, you awake?”

      Jordan’s eyes flicker open and he stretches, yawning widely. “Just a little,” he murmurs sleepily, reaching out to pull Max close. “Stay with me a little longer?”

      Max hums softly. “I have a better idea,” he says and pulls their lips together into a searing kiss. Jordan huffs a laugh and crawls into his lap, hands coming up to cling to Max’s shoulders as he tastes the inside of his mouth. He’s not nearly as sugar sweet as Jordan expects, especially considering how much sugar they’d eaten the night before, instead tasting more of sharp chillies and dark chocolate.

      A spark of an idea occurs in his mind and Jordan pulls away so he can huff a laugh. Max is naked beneath him, fresh out of the shower, and Jordan’s seen the way Max keeps staring at his hips whenever he thinks Jordan isn’t looking. If he wants to grab them so badly, then who is Jordan to deny such a wish? He laughs again and removes himself from Max’s lap long enough to discard his sweatpants, immediately hopping back on and grinding down.

      The sound Max makes is low and deep and it rattles in his bones in a way that makes Jordan’s nerves sing. His hands come up to drape themselves on Jordan’s hips and tighten, thumb digging in just slightly. “I swear to fucking god,” Max breathes, head dropping a little to land on Jordan’s shoulder, “if you make me spill before I get to fill you, I’m going to be so goddamn mad.”

      In response, Jordan grinds down hard and gives Max a smirk. “I,” he announces sweetly, “already took care of the stretching.”

      Max’s hands slide further back and press against his hole. The ring there is soft and slick, giving away easily to the press of his fingers, and Max grunts a little when the muscles try to suck the digits in. “When the hell did you do that?”

      Another smile, this one far more sly. “While you were in the shower. It’s not hard to fake sleeping.”

      For a moment Max doesn’t react, then he huffs a laugh and shakes his head slowly. “Fucking minx,” he breathes, and something hungry lurks in his gaze.

      Jordan shifts his weight and carefully straddles him, fingers sliding down to steady Max’s cock and shift it into position, and then he’s pressing back onto it. The head pops in with a slick sound and Max’s face spasms, his hands immediately clamping down on Jordan’s hips, and it’s almost like he’s fighting the urge to thrust up.

      (On one hand, it’s very nice of Max to be worried about hurting him, but on the other hand, Jordan’s been wanting Max’s cock for the past couple weeks and he doesn’t give a fuck anymore.)

_(_ _(_ _He bottoms out and purrs at the full feeling._

_Why Jordan didn’t do this sooner, he doesn’t know._

_Getting Adam to join will make everything sweeter._ _)_ _)_

**oOo**

      All good things eventually come to an end. They fuck up. Badly. Though they don’t learn that they do until much, much later, when it’s almost too late to fix it.

      The whole morning starts off odd. Jordan wakes up first, which is slightly weird considering that Max is usually up with the sun, and stumbles into the kitchen. He manages to make two amazing omelets with all the trimmings without burning the pan _or_ the food, and when he does bring it back to the room, Max is still asleep.

      (For fifteen seconds, Jordan does nothing but stand in the doorway and admire the bruises and marks he left all over Max’s back the night before.)

      There’s a little bit of grumbling from Max when he settles down on the edge of the bed, but he quickly comes to life and sits up when he _finally_ catches a whiff of the scent of omelets and coffee. “You made these?” he asks curiously, taking a plate from Jordan.

      “Yup.”

      He takes a bite and hums in pleasure. “Very nice. Your cooking has improved.”

      Jordan twitches. “About that. Something feels off. I’ve been oddly jittery since waking up.”

      Max pauses midway through shoving another fork-full into his mouth. “Now that you mention it, I have the strangest sensation that something is wrong as well.” He shrugs. “I don’t know how to describe it. It’s almost like you know that something will happen today, but not where or when. Just that it will.”

      “Exactly. It’s incredibly fucking creepy and all it does is make me nervous.”

      “Tell you what,” Max says, reaching over to shove a stray lock of hair out of Jordan’s face, “I’ll clean up the kitchen, we’ll record some shit, and then I’ll take you out to lunch at a nearby café. Just us.”

      “That sounds amazing. There’s a café a block or two that-away”--he gestures towards the south--“that has some amazing soups. Their cream of chicken is particularly good.”

      Sometime during the few moments Jordan is taking, Max cleans off his plate and drains his coffee mug dry. “Right. I need more coffee, so I’m going to get another cup and clean the kitchen while I’m at it. Just make sure to bring me your dishes, okay?”

      Jordan agrees with a nod and Max leans over so he can kiss him, then rolls out of bed and saunters towards the door. The sweatpants he’s wearing fall unfairly low on his hips and Jordan watches him leave the room with a hungry gaze.

      “Not fucking fair,” he mutters, then shoves the last of his omelet into his mouth and gets up to follow after him. They don’t manage to leave the house for a few hours; the biggest reason being that they can’t keep their hands off of each other, and the shower that’s supposed to be fifteen minutes takes an entire hour.

      The little café that Max chooses is nice and tucked a little bit out of the way. They settle into a booth near the window, sitting across from each other so they can hold hands over the table, and spend the time waiting for their food just talking.

      (And exchanging smooches, but no one but them needs to know about that.)

_((They don’t see Adam staring at them through the window._

_He heaves a heavy breath and flees._

_But they don’t see that, either.))_


	5. Yellow Roses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd be sorry for this, except I'm actually not.

     Adam doesn’t know what to do with himself anymore. For the longest time he’s resisted any idea of love, hated it so passionately for so many years that it’s become just another piece of himself, and now it’s all unraveling. All because of Max and Jordan. Two handsome men who stole Adam’s heart and--

     He’s not in love. He’s not, he’s not, he’s not, he’s _not_ , and he refuses to admit that he is. Denying it is something Adam can do. It’s something he’s _good_ at. He’s done it before and he’ll do it again.

     (There’s still the fact of the matter. Adam, despite lying to himself until he’s utterly convinced that the ground is pink and the sky is orange, has hanahaki for Jordan _and_ Max. He is exhausted and confused, stressed and terrified, absolutely and completely madly in love with the both of them.

     It also doesn’t help that any time Adam considers what it would be like to curl up next to either of them, his mind brings up memories of the other times he’s had hanahaki, reminding him of all the pain he went through before at the hands of others. Of the people who used his hanahaki against him, treating him like a disposable toy that had no use. And of the many times he’s had to get the damn disease removed, leaving him feeling empty and worthless for days after.

     (The feeling never really does go away.)

     Adam wants to let Max and Jordan in, desperately even, but he’s fearful of opening his heart up. He’s terrified of being hurt again, horrified at the thought of telling either of them, only to be rebuked.

     He’s already been bitten so many times that he’s terrified of holding his hand out again.

     (It doesn’t matter if he’s fairly certain that Max and Jordan would never do that to him, Adam’s too afraid to try anything in the first place, and he’s terrified of them approaching him. How is he supposed to react to that?)

     ((There’s a really good chance he could scream and bolt. Or faint. Fainting is a possibility, too.

     The petals in his lungs are a heavy weight in his chest, making it harder and harder for him to breathe the more he denies it. Adam knows he’s emotionally destroyed right now, knows he’s been broken into hundreds of pieces for years now, and he can’t imagine why anyone would ever want him.

     Every time Adam looks into the mirror, he sees a shattered reflection staring back at him.))

     He breathes in slowly and swallows, rubbing at his eyes. There’s something thick in his throat, a darkness that’s swallowing him up inside, and he has no idea what he’ll be able to do about it. Adam knows his heartbeat is too quick, knows that he’s denying something that could possibly be the best thing to ever happen to him, but he’s too emotionally destroyed to really care.

     Some part of him, a tiny part that he desperately tries to squash down because he’s too terrified of being rejected, purrs at the idea of being caught in between the two of them.

_(He’s in love, and he knows it._

_Denies it, resists it._

_But he’s still in love.)_

**oOo**

     Waking up that morning comes with the strangest sensation that the day ahead is going to be awful. Adam opens his eyes and stares at the ceiling above him for a while, just lying there and counting the hundreds of small cracks that adorn it. He really doesn’t want to move, not when his heart is thumping quickly in his chest and the hairs on the back of his neck are standing up. Something is off, something is wrong; he doesn’t know what, but he knows he won’t like it when he does, eventually, find out.

     Adam throws his sheets aside and stands up, casually ignoring the way they fall to the ground, and makes his way out to the kitchen. He’s no where _near_ as good a cook as Max is, but he’s good enough and that’s a start. Besides, it’s not like he can mess up eggs. Scrambled, yes—because those fuckers are notorious for becoming rubbery on him—but not sunny side up. Adam can probably do sunny side up eggs in his sleep at this point. He’s certainly done it enough.

     His movements are a little robotic, but he’s tired and doesn’t particularly care at this point. There’s something to be said about his limited cooking ability—Max would certainly have something to say about it—but Adam tries so hard to not think about it.

     He eats slowly and drops the dishes into the sink. There’s no point in using the dishwasher when it’s only him generating dirty dishes and Adam rarely has other people over. Besides, he finds the repetitive motions soothing.

     (Adam is so very stressed. He has no idea what he’ll do about his hanahaki and, as much as he refuses to admit it, he doesn’t want to have the disease removed. Something in his chest swells at the idea of loving both Max and Jordan. The disease is the only proof he has that his love is real.)

     As soon as the dishes are done, the urge to head out overwhelms him and Adam gets dressed before heading out. The sun is hot and he reaches up to cover his eyes, peering up at the sky above. There aren’t any clouds to block the rays and, despite the heat of the hour, there’s quite a good amount people out and about. Adam weaves through them, long since used to making his way through crowds, and casually heads deeper downtown. He has several things he wants to do, things he wants to buy, and even a few cafés he wants to try.

     Shopping for everything he needs takes a little bit of time, a little more than he actually expected, and Adam hauls up his bags and turns to head towards his apartment. A little café sits nearby, one of the ones that he’s been wanting to try for a little while, and Adam heads towards it, intent on taking a break.

     There are booths in front of the café’s glass windows, small ones meant for couples, and Adam glances at them and feels himself _freeze_.

_(Max and Jordan share one of those booths._

_They brush their lips, hands pressed together._

_Adam’s heart cracks in two.)_

**oOo**

     Adam feels no shame in bolting, running until the café is out of sight and he can no longer breathe, and he stumbles back into his apartment, tears streaking his cheeks.

     (He’s not in love. He’s not, he’s not, he’s not.)

     ((If he is, he’s not about to admit it.))

     His heart thuds in his chest, the image of Jordan and Max kissing seared into his brain, and he chokes on a sob, shoulders shaking. The bags he’s holding crash to the ground, their contents rolling across the floor, and he drops to his knees and buries his face into his hands.

     (It feels like his heart has been smashed into tiny pieces. How could Jordan and Max ever want him when they so very clearly have each other?

     Not that he actually _likes_ them or anything.)

     Adam’s almost robotic as he picks his groceries up off of the floor and puts them away, eyes glazed and throat dry. He no longer has an appetite, and probably won’t for the rest of the day. Not after this. Still needing something to do, Adam cleans his kitchen, sweeping, mopping, and scrubbing the floor, ignoring the way his knees twinge in pain. At least it distracts him from earlier.

     (When he goes to bed that night, collapsing face down onto his pillows, his mind brings forth images of the two in the café, their lips brushing gently and fingers tangled together. They look so beautiful, eyes alight with love and—

     It’s something he wants, so desperately that his heart _aches_ at the thought, and Adam is terrified of it.)

     There’s something in his chest, a bulge of emotions that swell upwards, and he shudders as the sensations wash over him. The idea that the two of them could be just as interested in him as Adam is in them lingers on the edge of his mind, but he pushes it away. Dreams are just that, dreams, and he knows better than to think they’d ever come true. Even if Adam very much wishes that they _would_ come true.

     So he dreams, just rolls over and closes his eyes, letting the false weight of a heavy body fall over him. He dreams of Jordan and the heat of his body, dreams of Max and the taste of his lips, dreams of the both of them pressed warmly against him. Adam dreams of clear lungs and a heart that bursts with love, dreams of being unafraid to show how much he wants them.

     He dreams of being pinned against a wall, dreams of his lips being captured and nipped and bitten until they’re swollen, dreams of being filled again and again until all he can do is scream their names, dreams of spending most of the next day limping.

     There’s just something so satisfying about dreaming of wrapping his legs around Jordan or Max’s waist, holding on almost desperately as they pound him senseless. Something satisfying about looking in the mirror and seeing the hickies on his throat and chest and handprints on his thighs.

_(Waking up every morning breaks his heart._

_The marks are gone._

_He’s just as alone as ever.)_

**oOo**

     Eventually Adam reaches a point where he just _can’t_ anymore. Playing with either Jordan _or_ Max sets him ablaze inside, his heartbeat thudding rapidly and his throat closing every time they so much as _look_ in his direction.

     (There’s a box underneath his bed that is filled with various toys that Adam would break out between girlfriends. He never thought his hanahaki would force him to break it out once more.)

     It’s in the morning after he plays with both Jordan _and_ Max, when Adam collapses onto his couch to take a nap. Adam’s desperately low on sleep, his mind refusing to stop thinking of anything but Max and Jordan and how far the disease has progressed, and he pretty much conks out the moment his head hits the pillow.

     (He dreams of Max and Jordan, dreams of being pinned and filled, until he can no longer think straight.)

     Which naturally, becomes a problem when he wakes up late afternoon, face down on the couch, hard as a rock, and desperately needy, and Adam keens, grinding his hips into the cushions below him.

     His mind flickers towards the box under his bed and Adam struggles to his feet, heading towards the stairs and cursing the fact that his room is at the other end of the goddamn apartment. Why he chose to make that his bedroom, Adam doesn’t know anymore, but he currently hates himself for it (more than usual, that is).

     Adam drops onto his bed with a breathy sigh and rolls over so he can drag the box out from underneath his bed. It’s only slightly heavy and he pulls it up, dropping it onto the surface with a grunt. The toys inside are lined up neatly from the last time he used them, back when he was between girlfriends several years back, and he runs a hand over them.

     It’s been a while since he’s done anything, hell, it’s been a while since he was last single, and he doesn’t quite know what to pick. In the end he grabs a dildo, shuts the box, and places it onto the floor, then settles back onto his bed, barely remembering to grab the lube from the side table.

     He settles onto his back and spreads his legs, spilling cold lube onto his fingers and pressing one against himself. It slides in slowly, guided by the slickness, and he closes his eyes and thrusts gently, a rough sound escaping his lips. Shifting his legs apart further, Adam presses another finger in, spreading them slowly and scissoring himself open, hips leaving the bed as he arches.

     For a moment he imagines Max or Jordan there, bodies pressed up alongside him, replacing his fingers with their own. In just a heartbeat, he can hear their voices in his ears, feel their skin on his fingers, taste their lips on his tongue. Adam chokes, yanks his fingers out of himself, and curls up in a ball.

_(He swears he can feel his own heart shattering._

_Adam eventually falls asleep there, tears streaking his cheeks._

_Sometimes he wonders why he ever allows himself to dream.)_

**oOo**

     Adam takes to avoiding playing with Max and Jordan, casually pretending that he isn’t ignoring them, all the while playing with other people. Ze and Chilled seem to realize what he’s up to, even if he doesn’t say a word about it, and Adam despises their knowing looks, so he takes to avoiding them, too.

     His phone vibrates and he pulls up the text without looking at the number, then immediately regrets it.

**ChillyDude:  
** god fucking dammit adam  
stop fucking ignoring us  
ze thinks he did something wrong  
he’s practically in tears

     He ignores it, exiting out of the window and wondering if he should just go ahead and temporarily block them. Another text comes through, popping up at the top and distracting him. The message makes him pause.

**ChillyDude:  
** so help me fucking god  
either you reply or else

**SeaBanana:  
** or else what?

**ChillyDude:  
** i’ll book a fucking flight to your place  
just so i can kick your stupid ass into gear  
now text ze

**SeaBanana:  
** fine. i’ll do it.  
now fuck off.

**ChillyDude:**  
good  
……  
i promise i’m not trying to be rude  
we’re worried about you adam  
whatever is going on with your life  
it’s destroying you  
and we can see it  
and we’re terrified for you

**SeaBanana:  
** where are you going with this?

**ChillyDude:  
** both ze and i know you have hanahaki

     Adam can feel himself _freeze_ when the words pop up on the screen. He thought he’d managed to keep quiet about it.

**ChillyDude:  
** we recognize the symptoms adam  
we’re not stupid  
both ze and i had hanahaki  
ze nearly died from it  
just  
….  
whoever you have it for  
just tell them  
it’s not worth nearly dying

**SeaBanana:  
** i’ll think about it.

     Adam has no intentions of actually thinking about it. He doesn’t want to, so he won’t. Instead he goes ahead and texts Ze, figuring that it’ll be less painful if he just goes ahead and does it.

**SeaBanana:  
** i have been ordered to speak to you.

**RoyalViking:  
** Oh, Adam.  
I told Chilled to not bother you.  
Told him you’d talk to us on your own time  
And that forcing you wasn’t a good idea

**SeaBanana:  
** of course he wouldn’t listen  
what did you expect  
it’s chilled

**RoyalViking:  
** *sighs* I should have known  
Chilled is very strong willed  
When he gets an idea into his head, he refuses to let go

**SeaBanana** :  
he should  
i’m half tempted to fly to your place

**RoyalViking** :  
What for?

**SeaBanana:  
** so i can punch his lights out

**RoyalViking:  
** I’d object to that  
Except I’m tempted to punch him myself  
He really needs to stop meddling in others lives

**SeaBanana:  
** especially not my love life  
i’m perfectly capable of ruining that myself

     “Shit,” Adam mutters seconds later once he realizes what he’s admitted.

**SeaBanana:  
** forget i said that

**RoyalViking:**  
Oh, Adam….  
What have you done?

**SeaBanana:  
** i don’t want to talk about it, ze  
ever

**RoyalViking:  
** All right.  
It’s your choice.  
Just know that whatever you chose,  
make sure _you’re_ happy with the choice.  
I nearly destroyed myself avoiding Chilled.  
Please don’t make my mistakes, Adam.  
Don’t do the same thing to yourself.

_(Adam closes his eyes and breathes in slowly._

_It might be too late for that.)_

**oOo**

     The sharp feeling in his chest grows stronger every fucking time Adam sees Max and Jordan out together. Something grows in the cavity between his lungs—not the petals, he knows what those feel like—but something darker, bigger, and it swells upwards, choking him in a way that’s just as uncomfortable. It’s green like pine trees with horns as sharp as needles, and it wraps its hands around his throat, almost as it it’s trying to throttle him.

     Whenever he sees Jordan press his lips to Max’s cheek, or Max wrap an arm around Jordan’s waist…whenever he wishes that he was in their place, there the feeling is, rearing its ugly head and attempting to throttle him.

     (It takes Adam three days to realize that he’s _jealous_ of what Max and Jordan have.)

     ((Just like his hanahaki, he denies that, too.

     He’s not jealous, he’s not in love, he’s not jealous, he’s not in love, he’s not jea—))

     Every time Adam goes out, he finds himself purposefully avoiding the areas he knows that Max and Jordan visit. Avoids the cafés he wants to try (because he sees them cuddling in a booth inside), picks a new grocery store to visit when he sees Max in one of the aisles (even though it’s much further away), and abruptly decides the long route to the nearby library is better (if only so he doesn’t have to see them walking hand in hand together).

     For the longest time, Adam’s whole world shifts to avoiding Jordan and Max in every way possible. He even goes as far as walking different routes every time he goes out, just so they can’t corner him.

     (His hanahaki gets worse every time he sees them, his lungs slowly filling with petals until he can no longer breath properly. Like everything else, Adam ignores it.)

     ((It’s easy to pretend he isn’t a shattered reflection of himself; he just places the mask over his face and giggles like he isn’t dying inside. So far, no one has noticed. Adam doesn’t know whether he should be happy or not about that.))

     Every day seems to be longer and harder, time shifting until all he can think about are the aches in his body. Adam’s acutely aware of his lungs, can vaguely feel the burn even when he’s sleeping, and he both hates it and loves it at the same time.

     The hanahaki causes him so much pain, but it’s a reminder that what he has is real. That, as much as he tries to deny it, desperately tries to ignore it, the truth of the matter is…he _is_ in love with Max _and_ Jordan. Adam knows perfectly well that he’s hurting himself by avoiding them, but he’s terrified of what could happen. Terrified of the possibilities, even more so about opening his heart up again. He remembers all too well what happened last last time that happened; Adam wound up getting burned by the person he gave his love to.

_(In the back of his mind, Adam knows Max and Jordan wouldn’t do that to him._

_He’s still terrified though._

_One thing’s for sure, it can’t get any worse.)_

**oOo**

     He’s wrong about it not getting worse.

     It gets worse.

     It gets _so much worse_.

     Adam knows he’s in pain, knows that he’s coughing far more petals now than is actually comfortable, knows full well that everything aches. For once he wishes it would just _stop_.

     (He regrets not telling anyone, hates the fact that this damn disease exists in the first place, and absolutely despises himself for staying quiet and suffering on his own.)

     The thing is, Adam doesn’t mean for the situation to get this out of hand. He’s distressed, stressed, and driving himself insane from all the ‘what ifs’ and the questions that he has no answer to. The things that used to distract him no longer do, the hobbies he used to have are no longer entertaining, and Adam’s entire world has shifted to revolve around how his lungs are feeling.

     It’s not surprising for him to be tired; so tired that he doesn’t move from his bed for an entire day, and Adam knows he’s missing more recording sessions than he should be, but he’s just too tired to actually care. For once he wants to be able to do something with his friends without worrying that he’s going to start coughing randomly. Every breath is almost painful, a burning ache that never gets better no matter how many petals he coughs.

     Gaming with Tyler, Vanoss, Marcel, Scotty, and Ohm is….different. It’s not bad, but he’s not really a part of the group and he knows it. They have inside jokes that he doesn’t understand and play on maps he’s not nearly as good at. It’s entertaining, sure, but he always leaves the sessions feeling like he doesn’t quite belong. There’s something in his chest, a loneliness that he regrets letting get out of hand. Adam knows he should have told them, even just hinted that he liked them, and now he’s stuck with regrets that he can’t quite get rid of.

     As soon as the gaming session is over, Adam turns off his computer and grabs his phone. It’s about time he tweeted something anyway, so he pulls up twitter, and nearly chokes on his own tongue. The first picture that loads is of _them_ , Jordan and Max laughing as they sit at a restaurant. The replies to the post are filled with comments about how awesome it must be to eat out with a friend, but Adam knows full well that they’re on a date together.

     (His chest tangles up into snarls and he drops the phone with a gasp, leaping to his feet so he can spit the petals in his mouth out into a sink.)

     ((In the cabinets sits a bottle of wine Ze gave him last Christmas. He doesn’t usually drink, doesn’t particularly care for the taste, but if it will take his mind off of his failures and mistakes, then Adam is willing to try.))

_(He pops open the bottle and takes a swig._

_The burn of the alcohol going down isn’t nearly as strong as the burn in his lungs.)_


	6. Ambrosia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Low-key dying because of you guys freaking out about how this will end. Motivated me enough to write the final part of chapter 7. So, here, have chapter 6.

     The sensation that something is dreadfully wrong lingers over the two of them, and Max is fully aware of it, even way back when the amount of times Adam played with them begins to slowly dwindle. It’s present in the way Nanners doesn’t quite look directly at him and Jordan, and in the way he doesn’t speak to them unless they talk first. The wrongness is even present in the way Adam plays golf; he specifically goes out of his way to avoid directly colliding with their balls.

     Then he stops playing with them all together. Just up and vanishes like a goddamn ghost, even though his channel still updates. He’s playing with new people, or even solo games, and Max is pretty damn convinced that Adam is actively avoiding them.

     It’s Jordan who actually voices it first, though, and he drops down onto the couch beside Max, biting his lower lip in the way he only does when he’s particularly uneasy about something. He doesn’t speak for a while, just stares blankly at the movie that’s playing, before leaning over to swipe some popcorn from the bowl on Max’s lap and shoving it into his mouth. Max pauses the movie and the crunch of the snack is loud in the sudden silence, Jordan’s throat working as he swallows. “I think,” he begins, and it’s hesitant, like he isn’t sure if he’s correct or not, “that Adam is avoiding the group. To be more specific, I think he’s avoiding us.”

     Max leans back and runs a hand through Jordan’s hair. “He seems to be avoiding Ze and Chilled, too. Sorta makes me wonder why.”

     Jordan shrugs. “They’re awfully perceptive. Both Ze and Chilled knew I had hanahaki before I even breathed a word about it. Adam doesn’t really like it when people poke their noses into his life like that. He’s incredibly private, even for a YouTuber with his full name out on the internet.”

     “There’s something that’s bothering me, though. When we still played together, he’d talk to Ze and Chilled just fine, but wouldn’t speak to either of us unless we started the conversation.”

     “Oh, definitely,” Jordan says. “Remember the golf game we had a while back? The one on the castle where I won?”

     For a second, Max thinks, idly considering all of their semi-recent games, and then nods. “Yeah, I remember that one. What about it?”

     “He wouldn’t look directly at us both, just sorta side-eye us like he wasn’t sure what to do with his gaze. And that’s not even mentioned how out of the way he’d go to avoiding having his ball collide with ours.”

     Max hums. “I was thinking about the prop hunt game we did where I won as a pumpkin on the front porch. How he refused to let me hide with him and I ended up switching teams to play with you.”

     Jordan leans up against him, dropping his head onto Max’s lap and staring up at the ceiling above them. He quietly counts the cracks in the paint and then sighs heavily. “I think,” Jordan begins slowly, and there’s a sort of determined fire in his voice that wasn’t there before, “that we need to talk to Adam.”

     “Yes,” Max agrees, “we do.”

_(They do need to talk to Adam._

_Heading out to his place seems like a good plan._

_Adam can’t run if they corner him there.)_

**oOo**

     They pack quickly but efficiently, shoving everything they need into two bags.

     Or rather, Jordan shoves all they’ll need in. Max just sighs heavily and removes everything, casually refolding it and giving Jordan a long look that speaks of his amusement. “Really?” he asks, and the exasperation in his voice is tinged with laughter.

     “Really, really,” Jordan tells him, giggling quietly as he hands over several pairs of socks. “I have to get my kicks somehow.” He leans against Max and steals a kiss, brushing their noses together gently. Max wraps an arm around his waist and hauls him up a little, making it so that his toes are barely brushing the ground. “Someone’s feeling handsy today.”

     Max snorts and presses his lips against his neck. “Come on,” he says, gently setting Jordan down, “we need to finish packing and get moving. Adam’s place is a bit of a drive and we want to get there without him noticing.” He pauses and sighs, running a hand through his hair and zipping both suitcases closed. “Especially if we want to corner him about his behavior.”

     Jordan shrugs and grabs both bags, casually calling, “We should get moving, then,” over his shoulder as he vanishes from the room. A long sigh escapes him and he follows after Jordan, shaking his head in exasperation. He’s already at the car when Max catches up, tossing the bags into the back seat and Jordan gestures towards the passenger seat. “I’ll drive,” Jordan comments with a cheeky grin, “if only because, while we both know Adam’s address, _I_ know how to get there from here in the shortest amount of time possible.”

     “I can’t deny that.” Max slides into the front seat and leans back, licking his lips nervously. “How the _fuck_ are we supposed to do this?”

     The car comes to life the moment the key is twisted and Jordan glances over at him. “I have no idea,” he say, frowning as he glances in the mirror and backs out. “I thought we’d figure that out when we get there.” Max rolls down the window and glances out, for a while doing nothing but watching as the scenery passes by.

     “I’m worried about Adam,” he finally says, and his fingers drum idly on the edge of the open window. “I’ve never seen him act like this before.”

     Jordan makes a left turn, gaze locked firmly on the road, but Max can see dark eyes flicker in his direction. “As am I,” he admits. “I really hope we’re overreacting about nothing.”

     Max scrubs at his eyes, pressing his palms against his face. “I’m oddly anxious about this. Something is incredibly wrong here and I really don’t like the sensation.”

     “I’ve been feeling off for a little while now.” Jordan snorts and comes to a stop at a light. “Like something is not only missing, but that if we’re not fast enough, it really _will_ be missing.” He swallows and Max can see his throat working, bobbing up and down quickly.

     When they get to Adam’s place, Jordan pulls in and glances around. He twitches slightly and moves to grab their bags out of the back seat.

_(There’s a heavy darkness looming over Adam’s apartment._

_It’s incredibly uncomfortable._

_Something is dreadfully wrong here.)_

**oOo**

     Seeing as Jordan is carrying the bags, Max digs through his pockets for a spare key.

     (They all have keys to each other’s place, making it easy if one has to visit for one reason or another. It’s been a while since Max has had to use the one to Adam’s place.)

     He slides it into the lock and turns it, slowly pushing the door open. It creaks, a sound that ripples down their spines and makes their bones shiver, and Max pokes his head inside. Almost instantly he recoils, hand zipping upwards to clamp over his nose, and, curious, Jordan sniffs the air. He immediately regrets it when the scent of alcohol smashes him directly in the face, and he gasps sharply. “Oh, god, what the actual _fuck_?”

     Max’s hand is pressed against his nose and he pushes the door open wide, letting the light shine in. It’s dark from one side to the other. There are bottles on the floor by the wall and Jordan leans down to pick one up, tilting it over and watching as only a small drop rolls out. “Empty,” he announces softly, and set it down so he can examine another. “Actually, they’re all empty.” His gaze shifts to meet Max’s own, and there’s a deep crease in his brows. “They _all_ are. Does Adam usually drink like this?”

     “He hates most alcohols with a burning passion,” Max hisses, sharp eyes taking in the shadows of Adam’s home. “I have no idea when he started drinking like this.”

     Jordan collects the bottles—his hands are shaking slightly as he does so—and he heads towards where he knows the recycling bin is (only to find that it, too, is full of empty bottles). “Max?” he calls, making sure to keep quiet, “I think we have a problem.”

     The sound Max makes when he sees the filled bin is that of a startled cat, and his eyes blow wide with surprise and more than a little horror. “Oh, Adam. What have you done to yourself?” He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose, his entire frame almost sagging in on itself, and Jordan sets the bottles down onto the (crowded) counter so he can drag him into a hug.

     (Neither of them glances at the sink filled to the brim with dishes. They’re pretending it doesn’t exist, if only to keep their sanity intact, and are far more caught up in their worry for Adam.)

     ((God, Max desperately hopes he’s all right.))

     A faint groan catches their ears, barely more than a breath of air, and they turn. Adam sits curled up against the side of the couch, one knee pressed close, an arm draped over it and his head face down against his arm, a bottle clutched tight in his other hand. He looks _terrible_ , like he hasn’t slept an hour in weeks, and he seems to have dropped a worrying amount of weight.

     (Max can say with all certainty that, if Adam wasn’t wearing a shirt, he could probably count the other’s ribs. It’s terrifying, to say the least.)

_((The shifting of his weight makes the floors creak._

_Slowly, Adam looks up._

_His lips part.))_

**oOo**

     “I’m hallucinating again, aren’t I?” Adam asks, almost rhetorically, and he’s looking at Jordan and Max like they aren’t quite there. “Go away, dammit, and let me suffer in fucking peace.” His words are slurred in a way that says he’s been drinking for a while, but not quite completely drunk. A hand twitches and Adam’s plan to drain the bottle of whatever is in it becomes clear. Jordan moves, snatching the bottle out of his hand.

     “Don’t you fucking dare,” he hisses and Adam blinks confusedly at his suddenly empty hand.

     “—Where?” He clenches his hand, almost like he can’t believe it’s suddenly missing the bottle, and licks his lips. “I’m not hallucinating, am I?”

     “You certainly aren’t,” Max says flatly, dropping to his knees beside him, and he cradles Adam’s face between his palms. Tears begin to form at the edge of Adam’s eyes and they dribble down his cheeks, spilling over Max’s hands and dripping down onto the floor, and he clutches at Max’s fingers like they’re going to disappear on him.

     Adam’s head drops and he heaves a heavy sob, eyes sliding closed, and he presses himself against Max, tucking his face into his neck. Jordan watches quietly as Adam cries, his hands clutching at broad shoulders. He’s so tired, so emotionally exhausted, that Adam cries for an entire hour before going quiet, sagging against Max’s frame as he slides into unconsciousness. “I’ll go take care of him,” Max says quietly, carefully lifting Adam’s slim form. He doesn’t weigh nearly enough, the difference between the last time Max lifted him and now dreadfully clear, and concern lodges itself in his chest.

     Jordan follows him down the hall towards Adam’s bedroom, and Max winces when he sees the inside. It’s just as messy as the rest of the house, stuff discarded every which way, and Jordan scowls at the sight of more empty bottles scattered across the floor. “You clean him up,” he says, frowning deeply, “and I’ll take care of this room.” Max nods and vanishes into the bathroom. It, thankfully, is clean, and Max shifts Adam to one arm so he can run the water, absently stripping his best friend as he waits for it to heat up. Adam’s head lolls against him and Max settles him carefully into the water, reaching for the shampoo.

     He takes his time washing Adam, taking great care in making sure that he doesn’t accidentally drown him, and hauls him out of the tub, letting the water drain. By the time he’s wrapped Adam in a towel and stepped back into the bedroom, Jordan has not only gotten rid of all of the bottles and picked everything up, but has vacuumed, too, and seems to be halfway through the process of changing the sheets on the bed. “You certainly took your time,” Jordan comments as he tucks the fitted sheet into place before throwing the regular one over.

     “I didn’t want to _drown_ _him_ , Jordan.”

     A vaguely offended look crosses over Jordan’s face and he snickers, one hand coming up to cover his mouth. He turns away to toss a light quilt over the bed and Max can see his frame shaking with laughter. Adam shifts in his arm, a sleepy murmur escaping him as he snuggles closer, and Jordan’s lips twitch upwards as he pulls the covers back. Max sets Adam down and watches as the man snuggles into the clean sheets, sighing softly as he presses his face into his pillow.

_(A soft smile forms on Max’s face._

_This is more like the Adam he remembers.)_

**oOo**

     Adam sleeps for two days straight, not stirring even when Jordan and Max shift furniture so they can get underneath, and, between the two of them, they manage to clean the entire place top to bottom in about thirty six hours. Max, beyond appalled at the state of Adam’s kitchen, tackles cleaning the entire place himself, shooing Jordan out when he offers assistance. “I got this,” he says cheerfully as he digs cleaning supplies out from under the sink. “I do, after all, know how to mop a floor without screaming in fury.”

     “I’d be insulted, except it’s true,” Jordan admits. “I can vacuum, sweep, dust, and a whole host of other things, but I hate mopping with a passion.”

     Max shrugs. “I despise dusting shit. I’m fine with everything _except_ dusting, which is just ridiculous, but I hate doing it.”

     Jordan snorts and leans against the wall, watching with vague amusement as Max vanishes into the kitchen. He picks up the duster, sets the window cleaning solution down on a nearby counter, and begins running it along the surface, smiling faintly at the dust free surface left behind. Each item in his way is carefully picked up and cleaned, then its position, before he sets it down again and moves along.

     Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Max making headway through the massive amount of dishes that are piled up on the counter beside him, and Jordan sets the stuff in his hands down. Beside Max is a filled dish drainer and he huffs in amusement, snatches up a towel, and gets to work emptying the rack. “I can get that,” Max says as he rinses a plate.

     “Don’t worry about it.” Jordan dries a bowl and stacks it with a few others, and reaches for another one. “I had to stop dusting or I’d go mad.” He shrugs, pressing down a little harder on the towel in his hands. “Besides, drying dishes is pretty soothing.”

     Max’s glaze flickers towards him and he laughs, lips pulling up into a smile. His hands are wet and covered in soap, but Jordan doesn’t complain when he wraps an arm around his waist and pulls him in for a kiss. He also says nothing when he spots dark eyes flickering towards Adam’s closed door; the worry in their depths says more than Max ever could. “I--”

     He presses a finger against Max’s lips and shakes his head slowly. “I’m worried, too.”

     “God, I hope he wakes up soon.”

     Neither of them sleeps that night; the both of them are far too worried about Adam, along with their need to clean the entire place top to bottom, makes for a long night. Every single surface is dusted, then wiped down, and even vacuumed if at all possible. Max sweeps the kitchen and dining room, vacuums it, then gets on his hands and knees and scrubs it from one side to the other. Jordan, quite tired with cleaning windows, empties and refills his rinse water for him. The windows wind up thrown wide open, if only so they can air out the place and make it smell less like alcohol, and Jordan makes a trip to the store to pick up a few things. Max makes them both soup because he’s too fucking tired to do anything else. “God, I love you,” Jordan murmurs and Max huffs a laugh, pressing soft kisses against his neck.

_(They wind up curled up on either side of Adam._

_Each wraps an arm around his waist.)_

**oOo**

     Adam comes to slowly, surrounded on both sides by warmth that permeates him completely. He has a splitting headache, but a sense of _something_ eases his senses. He’s so comfortable, wrapped up in a softness that he hasn’t felt since his last girlfriend dumped him, and Adam whines softly.

     It takes him approximately thirty seconds more to realize that there are _arms_ wrapped around his waist, and fifteen seconds after that for all of the memories from the night before to rush back to him. Both Max and Jordan are here with him. _He can’t hide anymore_.

     There’s something to be said that he doesn’t twitch the slightest bit, but somehow Max seems to know that he’s awake anyway as his arm tightens around Adam’s waist. “Good morning,” the man rumbles and the sound vibrates down Adam’s spine. He shivers and, knowing there’s no way he can pretend to be asleep now, presses his face into the pillow, refusing to look in Max’s direction.

     The shifting of the bed on his other side tells him that Jordan is there, too, and Adam is half tempted to run for the hills. It gets worse when he actually moves, tightening the grip he has on Adam’s waist, and murmuring, “Good morning,” in his ear. His voice is just as rough and silky as Max and it’s doing completely horrible things to Adam’s sex drive.

     It’s at that point Adam gives up pretending that he isn’t affected. “Good morning,” he splutters, mentally cursing when his voice cracks, and Max makes a sound that’s more laugh than anything else. For a moment, he’s all smiles, but then it fades and he faces Adam with a heavy sigh.

     “We _need_ to talk.” He breathes in, a rather pinched expression crossing his face, and gestures to the room. For the first time, Adam takes note of how clean it is. There’s no dust anywhere and all of the empty bottles that he remembers being there before are gone. And, judging by the faint scent of sea salt, even the sheets on the bed have been changed. “This is you. Not that broken _thing_ that was trying to drink to the bottom of a barrel!”

     “Max,” Jordan warns when Adam flinches at his words.

     “God _dammit_ , Adam!--Jordan, let me fucking talk—the Nanners I know would never fucking back down from a challenge; he’d take every hit and give back as good as he got!”

     Adam’s lip curls. “Maybe that Nanners doesn’t fucking exist!” he spits and rolls, struggling to get to his feet. There’s silence for a split second and he knows Max is gearing up for another round, when a sudden thump, followed almost instantly by a high-pitched yelp, fills the air. His head snaps up and the sight of a furious Max sprawled across the floor, tangled in sheets, is both calming and terrifying.

     Jordan, on the other hand, doesn’t even look the _slightest_ bit repentant. “ _That_ is fucking enough, Max,” he says, and his tone is incredibly dangerous. His lips have curled back to reveal sharp teeth, and there’s a glint of _something_ in his eyes that dares them to push the envelope.

_(Now that Adam thinks about it, he doesn’t believe he’s ever seen Jordan get mad._

_Something tells him he doesn’t want to.)_

**oOo**

     Max is quiet for the rest of the day, not breathing a word even when spoken to—he doesn’t seem mad, just thoughtful—and Jordan fills the quiet with his own chatter. Adam nervously stays out of his way. He’s far too fragile emotionally to really be able to deal with an upset Max, and Jordan’s false cheer is just as unnerving.

     (He still doesn’t know why they even came to his house in the first place. It’s a burning question in the back of his mind and it won’t stop bothering him. Sometimes Adam wonders if he’ll ever know the answer.)

     For some reason, one that he _can’t_ explain, no matter how many times Adam goes asleep alone he always wakes up with Jordan and Max on either side of him, their arms wrapped around his waist. “Why?” he finally asks after three days of this.

     “Because,” Max says and refuses to elaborate any further. Jordan doesn’t comment, instead choosing to wrap an arm around Adam’s waist and press a kiss just below his eye.

     “Why me?” is Adam’s next question, followed almost immediately after by, “you could have _anyone_. Why me?” He doesn’t realize just how well the other two can read his tone of voice, nor does he see the way Max and Jordan exchange glances and slowly frown. They begin shifting, crowding him towards the bed until the back of his knees are bumping against it, and Adam glances behind him quickly.

     The both of them, naturally, immediately take the chance to shove him down onto the surface, and Max follows, settling down behind him and pinning Adam’s slimmer form.

     Jordan, because he’s a horrible tease, drops to his knees between his legs and rests his hands on Adam’s inner thighs, sliding pale fingers up towards the button and zipper. He dips his head and presses his lips against the fabric of the jeans, then nips gently at the spot, laving it with his tongue until it’s dark with spit and a bulge has formed.

     Behind Adam, Max chuckles and proceeds to slide his hands up Adam’s shirt, rubbing calloused fingers against his nipples.

     Adam keens softly, one hand coming up to press against his lips in a rather desperate attempt to keep from making noise, and decides that the two of them are out of their _goddamned minds_. His eyes flicker down perfectly in time to catch sight of the sultry grin Jordan flashes him just before he uses his teeth to pull the zipper open.

     Max breathes in sharply and murmurs, “Now that’s not fucking fair.”

     Jordan smirks. “I never play fair when giving blowjobs. I want you to _scream_ my name,” he says and tugs Adam’s boxers away. Max takes the chance to yank Adam’s shirt off, tugging hungrily at an earlobe with his teeth as soon as the fabric is out of the way. Adam jerks, lips parting and eyes sliding closed, and he can practically feel the smirk radiating off his their forms.

     “Dammit,” he breathes and sags against Max. There’s no way he can remain ramrod straight, not when Jordan has his cock shoved balls deep down his throat and keeps looking up at him with lust-blown eyes. Not when Max keeps pinching his nipples and sucking on his throat in an attempt to leave marks scattered across his skin. It’s official, whatever attempts he has made at keeping the both of them away from him, they’re gone now. Adam has lost the game. Big time.

_(Adam’s gone and fallen straight into the rabbit hole again_

_This time, however, he didn’t hit bedrock._

_Max and Jordan were there to catch him.)_

 


	7. Indian Azaleas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey look, I actually finished this. Fair warning, a good chunk of this chapter is porn.

     It’s distressing that Adam doesn’t believe them. He hides it well, but both Jordan and Max can see it in his eyes. They can see the questions, the lack of understanding, the disbelief that they would ever want someone like him. It gets to the point where Max and Jordan take to exchanging long and meaningful glances behind Adam’s back. If he doesn’t understand why they want him, well, then, he’ll just have to be shown.

     The plan is fairly simple, but it still takes a little while to set up. Neither of them wants to hurt Adam and they’ll need enough lube on hand to last a few days. After all, none of them will be leaving the house anytime soon, and Max has full intentions on making both Jordan _and_ Adam limp for a little while. Mostly Adam, but the point still stands.

     On a rather dreary Saturday morning, just as the clock has ticked over to eight a.m., Max decides that it’s time. Adam sleeps between them, but there’s a distance in his body; the way his arms are lose and refraining from wrapping all the way around their waists. It’s like he’s hesitating to get close, like he doesn’t trust them with his heart, and it’s incredibly insulting.

     (And worrying, but they try not to dwell on that thought for too long.)

     Max wakes up the next morning with Adam pressed close, closer than he usually sleeps, and he wraps an arm around his waist, watching as brown eyes flutter open. “Good morning,” Max says quietly. Jordan isn’t in the bed, but he can hear footsteps in the kitchen and knows that the other is fetching coffee for all of them. It’s something he’s taken to doing lately and Max very much appreciates it.

     Adam’s gaze flickers up towards his own and he bites his lips. “Good morning.”

     For a moment, Max hesitates, then pushes on. This is something they need to do. Behind him comes footsteps and then he can see Jordan step into the room out of the corner of his eyes, three steaming mugs of coffee in his hands. “So we’re doing it, then?” he asks.

     Max nods sharply and tightens the grip he has on Adam’s waist. No way in hell is he going to let him run from this conversation. Adam avoids certain topics enough as it is. “Yes, yes we are.”

     An unknown emotion passes through Adam’s eyes and he tries to pull away, but Max’s arm tightens again. “Max, let me go.”

     “No. We need to talk. You’ve been avoiding this far too long.”

     Adam immediately glances over at Jordan, clearly looking for assistance, but Jordan shakes his head. “As much as I hate to admit it, Max’s right, Adam. The three of us need to talk. Badly.” Adam swallows nervously and his throat bobs.

     “Talk?” he echoes, and he manages a rather convincing confusion. “About what?”

     Max sighs. “You need to let us in, Adam. You can’t just hide your heart away and pretend that everything is all right. That’s not how functioning relationships work.”

     All of the color blanches straight out of Adam’s face and he recoils back, struggling against the grip Max has around his waist. “Let me go!” he spits. Max shifts so he’s sitting up and drags Adam onto his lap, watching as Jordan moves to settle right behind him. His arms come up and wrap neatly around Adam’s waist, trapping him between the two of them.

     “Where do you think you’re going?” Jordan asks quietly, lips turning down into a slight frown. “We really need to talk about this.”

     “What’s to talk about? Now _let me go_.”

     Another sigh, this time heavier, and Max closes his eyes, head dropping forward to thunk against Adam’s own. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about, Adam. You’re trying to run from this.”

     “I’m not running from anything, dammit.” Adam tries to pull back again and he’s just as unsuccessful as before. “Let go of me.”

     “Not until we talk this over,” Jordan cuts in with, and Max watches as he kisses the back of Adam’s neck.

     Max reaches up to run a hand through Adam’s sleep-messy hair and heaves another massive sigh. “Well, then. You definitely haven’t been paying attention to us.”

     “Excuse me?” Adam snaps, looking very much like he’s been personally insulted.

     “Because if you _had_ been paying attention, you’d know that both Jordan and I have hanahaki for you.” Adam goes still, brown eyes blowing wide, and his breathing becomes completely silent.

     “ _What_?” he whispers.

_(Max draws him in for a kiss._

_Adam barely reacts._

_He can’t seem to process what he has just learned.)_

**oOo**

     Adam is dead silent for the next three hours, not moving from where he’s sitting at all, and Max spends the time running his fingers through Adam’s hair. Jordan is the only one who actually gets up and does stuff, but he returns to the bed fairly often to press his lips against the back of Adam’s neck.

     Eventually Adam comes back to himself and he swallows heavily, clearly struggling to find the words he wants to say. “I—” He closes his mouth and licks his lips, then tries again. “I— Why? Why me?”

     Max sighs and tries not to roll his eyes. “Not this again, Adam.”

     Another moment of hesitation, and then Adam shakes his head, pulling away. “I don’t believe you,” he snaps, and the sudden surge of anger is surprising.

     “Excuse me?”

     “Your hanahaki. I don’t believe you. It’s never happened befo—” He cuts himself off before he can say anything else but Max is already putting the pieces together in his head and he does _not_ like the picture that is being painted.

     Jordan has gone a shade of white that quickly shifts to puce and fury builds on his face. “Excuse me?” he hisses. “Who the _fuck_ lied to you about having hanahaki for you?”

     Max can feel his anger in his very bones and he growls, “No, don’t inform us. Otherwise I’ll hunt them down and kill them.” Surprise flickers across Adam’s face and he draws back a little.

     “Tell me you have proof,” he finally says.

     “Of course,” Max tells him, snorting softly. “Off. I need to get to my suitcase.” He gets up when Adam moves off of him, saunters over to where his suitcase is sitting along the wall, and begins digging through it. A small box is removed and Max tugs it open, glancing at the contents before closing the lid and returning to the bed. He hands it over without hesitation, pressing the box into Adam’s trembling hands,

     Adam licks his lips nervously and pulls it open, but doesn’t look in. His eyes flicker closed and he breathes in slowly, then slowly, ever so slowly, looks into the box. For a second it seems like he doesn’t realize what he sees, but Max can see the exact moment when it does register, because brown eyes go huge. “Oh, my god,” he breathes.

     Jordan glances at Max and quietly asks, “Did you put both kinds of petals in there?” His answer comes when Adam reaches in and gingerly pulls out two separate petals, each one speckled with blood. The dog rose petal lies half-over the harlequin flower petal and he holds them up to the light and stares, not moving, for a little while.

     “These are real?” Adam asks, voice caught in his throat, hope burning in his heart, and he doesn’t really need the answer because he can feel how real the petals are, but he wants to hear it from them anyway.

     “Of course they are,” Max murmurs. He reaches up and removes the petals from Adam’s hands, gently drops them back into the box, and closes it. Jordan takes the box and sets it on the bedside table, watching as Adam shudders.

     “They’re real,” Adam breathes, and long tears dribble down his cheeks. Max wraps his arms around Adam’s waist and tugs him close, rubbing his back as he cries. Jordan settles down beside them and throws a blanket over their legs.

_(They stay like that until Adam cries himself to sleep._

_It’s incredibly heartbreaking.)_

**oOo**

     Adam wakes up the next morning emotionally exhausted. Max is there when he comes to, eyes bleary and unfocused, and he rubs his face with a sniff. “Good morning,” he murmurs softly, and has to sigh when Adam stiffens.

     The words Adam says are incredibly quiet, so soft that he barely hears them, but they make his blood run cold. Jordan’s out running errands, so it’s clearly up to Max to make their interest perfectly clear, and his lips thin dangerously. “What do you see in me?”

     “I see everything in you,” Max says, and pulls Adam to his feet, pushing him over to stand in front of the mirror.

     “Why?”

     “Hands on the mirror, Adam,” Max murmurs, pressing up close behind him, and when Adam does so, he covers them with his own. “You clearly don’t see what we do, so I want you to watch.”

     “Watch what?”

     Max’s lips brush against Adam’s ears, and he purrs, “Watch as I fuck you stupid, of course.” He nips hungrily at the flesh there and runs a hand down pale flesh, watching as Adam shivers beneath his touch. “Do _not_ look away, darling. I want you to see your pleasure.”

     He pushes Adam up against the mirror and latches onto his neck, sucking hungrily, and taking the chance to slide his fingers down his side. Adam gasps sharply, his eyes sliding shut when Max shoves his sleeping pants out of the way and grabs a handful of flesh, squeezing it gently. Then a thought occurs and he pulls back, murmurs, “Don’t move, I need to get lube,” and heads straight towards the side table.

     Adam can hear the sound of the drawer sliding open and his eyes flicker open, gaze sliding to where he can see Max in the mirror, and he breathes in sharply at the sight of him. Max has a arm in the drawer and he pulls out a tube of lube, turning to return to Adam. Their gazes meet and Max’s lips curve upwards, peeling back in a smile that makes Adam shiver with want. “Impatient, I see,” he purrs, licking his lips.

     A flush swells up and crosses Adam’s face, burning his cheeks a bright shade of red, and he snatches his gaze away. He pretends he doesn’t see Max sauntering his way, actually squeaks when hands reappear on his hips, and tries to ignore the way the man behind him chuckles. Slick fingers brush against his inner thighs, smearing cool lubricant across his skin, and Adam whines, shivering at his touch.

     He can feel the digits sliding inside of him, spreading and shifting, and Max kicks his legs further apart, digging the fingers on his free hand into his hip. Adam can’t stop the noise that escapes him and he arches sharply, eyes sliding closed. Max’s free hand shifts, then comes down sharply on his hip accompanied with a hiss of, “Eyes open,” and Adam jerks.

     Max is absolutely merciless in stretching him, fingers digging into every single sensitive spot Adam didn’t know existed in the first place, and he finds himself arching against the mirror.

     (It’s incredibly hot to see himself be reflected in the glass. To see every single expression as he makes it; the parted lips and lust-heavy eyes, his flushed cock and the lubricant dribbling down his inner thighs, and the way Max’s fingers leave bruises on his hips. He can see the purple hickies that have been sucked into existence on his neck, and the indentations of Max’s teeth in his shoulder.

_(And here Adam thought things couldn’t get any better.)_

**oOo**

     Of course, Adam _has_ to be wrong about some things. Being fucked stupid by Max against a mirror _does_ get better.

     And it all begins when Jordan walks in on them. Walks in and sees Adam pressed against the mirror, lips bruised and red, eyes heavy lidded but locked onto his reflection, Max’s fingers indenting the flesh of his hips, his grip tightening with every thrust.

     Jordan leans against the doorway and feels a smirk curl his lips upwards. “You couldn’t wait for me to get back?” he asks, and watches with amusement as Adam’s gaze snaps towards him. It apparently takes a second for his presence to register, because Adam’s face goes bright red a moment later and he gasps sharply. Max, on the other hand, doesn’t even seem the slightest bit bothered by Jordan appearing and keeps on thrusting, the snap his his hips meeting Adam’s ass echoing in the room.

     “Not really, no,” Max says, and then leans forward to leave another bite mark on Adam’s shoulder.

     “So what brought this on?” Jordan pushes away from the door frame and starts to cross the room, taking in the way Adam’s eyes flicker towards him then back to his own reflection.

     “Adam apparently still doesn’t understand why we like him.” Max shrugs, and then adds, “I’m showing him what we see.”

     Humming approvingly, Jordan drops to his knees in front of Adam. He can feel the cool press of the mirror against his back and Jordan glances up. Adam’s looking down at him and his irises have been swallowed up by his pupils, leaving only the tiniest sliver of color around a black abyss. “Eyes on the mirror,” Max orders, his voice somewhat muffled by the grip his teeth have on a pale shoulder, and Adam immediately looks away.

     The moment dark eyes are no longer on him, Jordan takes the chance to run his tongue across the flushed cock in front of him and Adam jerks with a sharp gasp and a muffled whine of, “Holy fuck!” Max rumbles a low laugh and slides a hand down Adam’s side, drifts a finger down Jordan’s cheek, and slides it down the inner flesh of pale thighs.

     A shiver wracks Adam’s frame and he whimpers, widening his stance in an attempt to regain his balance, and Jordan takes advantage of his distractedness, wrapping his mouth around Adam’s cock and letting it slide down his throat. He presses forward until his nose is brushing dark curls and stops there, swallowing harshly and listening to the shuddering intake of breath, the hissed curse, and the way Adam leans further against the mirror in an attempt to stay standing.

     Jordan can see the way Adam’s thighs are shaking, and knows full well that Max is probably the only thing keeping him vertical at this moment. He hums deep in his throat and pulls back, running his tongue along the underside of Adam’s cock, sucking hungrily on the head and digging his tongue into the slit. One of Adam’s hands slide down and gets a firm grip on his hair, and Jordan can tell that Adam’s barely staying standing.

     (He’s rather pleased with the situation, actually.)

_((They don’t let up until Adam peaks with a scream, his head falling back against Max’s shoulder._

_It’s garbled, but the syllables of both ‘Max’ and ‘Jordan’ are recognizable._

_They’re incredibly proud of that.))_

**oOo**

     Unsurprisingly, it’s Jordan who springs their next trap for Adam. He’s always been a little (lot) more impatient than Max, and his ability to sit still in certain situation dwindles quickly. So when Max wakes up one morning to find himself alone in the bed, surrounded by an equally empty bathroom and hallway, he’s not surprised in the least.

     (In fact, he actually suspected something like this would happen. At this point, Max’s practically _expecting_ it.)

     He throws the covers back and shuffles over to the edge of the bed, muttering a bit in annoyance when his toes brush against cool floor. The rug that’s usually there has shifted about half a foot, leaving the cold floor within range of his feet. Max sniffs and snags it with his foot, dragging it closer so he can step down onto it.

     It’s still early, far too early to even _consider_ getting dressed—early to the point where Max can’t quite bring himself to look at the clock—and caffeine is really starting to sound good. The hallway outside of the room isn’t quite as chilly, as it seems that the heating has _finally_ kicked in, and he makes his way down towards the kitchen. The entire reason why Max is alone in the bedroom readily becomes apparent the moment he can see through the doorway into the kitchen; his entire brain up and screeches to a halt and--

     Adam’s spread out on his back on the dining room table, completely naked and his eyes hidden by a blindfold. He’s grasping the edge of the table like it’s a lifeline, knuckles white from the force of his grip, and a low keening whine escaping his lips. For a moment Max does nothing but stare, his desire for coffee gone, and he has no idea what the _hell_ is going on right then and there.

     That is, of course, when Adam arches with a choked scream and Jordan pops up from between slim legs.

_Oh,_ Max thinks, taking note of Jordan’s bruised lips and spit-soaked chin. He’s licking them almost eagerly, like he’s trying to memorize the taste of Adam, and it’s very much apparent what the two of them have been up to.

     Max shifts his weight and swallows harshly when the floor creaks underneath him, Jordan’s gaze immediately snapping over towards him. “Good morning,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and smearing saliva across his face, “I was wondering when you’ve wake up.”

“And what’s this about?” Max asks, gesturing to the scene in front of him.

     Jordan gives him a beaming smile, hand sliding down to do something between Adam’s legs that Max can’t see. Whatever it is, Adam twists, another low keen escaping him. “You showed him what we saw, now I’m showing him what we hear.”

     “That explains the blindfold, at least.” Max heads straight for the coffee pot that’s bubbling merrily away on the counter and pours himself a cup, watching over the rim of the mug as Jordan goes right back to eating Adam open, slick fingers spreading equally slick flesh. He does nothing but observe for a while, drinking slowly as Adam writhes and mewls on the table, before eventually setting the empty mug down and striding over to stand by his face. “Bit loud, isn’t he?” he comments, and Jordan snorts.

     “Such pretty lips,” Jordan tells him, pulling back so he can pull open his own pants. The comment has almost nothing to do with the conversation, but Max knows what Jordan means, and he cheerfully divests his sleep pants, gently bumping the head of his cock against a spit-slick cheek. Adam parts his lips for him and Max slides it in.

_(When Adam’s nose finally bumps against his balls, there’s a bulge in his throat._

_Max strokes a finger against it, can feel the flutter of Adam’s muscles, and smiles._

_Hopefully Adam won’t need anymore convincing that they really do want him.)_

**oOo**

     Apparently them fucking Adam stupid multiple times (and in multiple places), combined with the knowledge that they really _did_ have hanahaki for him, is enough for him to decide that, yes, Max and Jordan really do mean it and he slowly stops fighting them.

     (Adam doesn’t say the words though, and Jordan and Max still find themselves coughing up his petals. They always will until he breathes those three words.)

     What they don’t realize until later is that Adam’s still coughing up petals for them, too. In their work to get him to accept them, they never spoke the words. Never said them to each other, never whispered them into his ear, and they share a look, quietly resolving to fix that as soon as possible.

     (It’s Jordan who says it first, soft and breathy into Adam’s ear as he pins him against a wall and whispers the words again and again.)

     The whole situation starts with Brian—because when doesn’t it?—and a game of golf, and Max and Jordan can see the sheer fury in Adam’s face as he curses. They share glances from across the room, casually sitting on the floor at opposite ends of Adam’s recording studio (perfectly out of sight of everything but their own laptop webcams), and then glance at a fuming Adam.

     He’s purposefully not paying any attention to them, pulling off the illusion that he’s alone rather well, and Max reaches up too run a hand through his hair. Knowing full well that something is going to happen and soon, Max quickly puts his ball into the hole and moves to spectate, taking note that Jordan is already watching Adam. He winces when Brian smashes Adam’s ball straight off of the edge, earning a snarl of fury from him, and pinches the bridge of his nose in frustration.

     Adam slams his hand down on his desk and snarls, “Fucking _stop_!” and actually shrieks in fury when Brian whacks him off again. He’s up on his feet within seconds when the others do nothing but laugh, ripping his headphones off, throwing them onto the desk, and storming out the room, the door slamming loudly behind him. The game falls silent.

     “Did he really leave?” Tyler asks, and he actually sounds concerned, which is odd considering that he was laughing his ass off seconds ago.

     Jordan sighs and catches Max’s attention, then gestures towards the door. ‘I’ll go check,’ he mouthes, casually dropping out of the game without anyone but Max noticing, and then getting up. He stretches languidly, a little sore from sitting on the floor, and drops underneath Adam’s desk, making sure to stay out of view as he heads for the door. It comes open quietly underneath Jordan’s touch and Max watches as he heads out after Adam.

     He continues playing, waiting a few holes to casually say, “I need to do something, I’ll be back shortly,” and then quiting out of the game and heading to check on Adam. The hallway is empty and so is the nearby bedroom, but the living room isn’t. Jordan has Adam hauled up against the wall, face pressed against his neck as they grind against each other. Adam’s legs are wrapped around his waist, arms clutching tightly at broad shoulders. His breathing is heavy in the room and his eyes are teary at the edges and Max doesn’t know why until he steps closer.

     “I love you so much,” Jordan breathes, sucking hungrily at the smooth column of Adam’s neck and leaving pale marks behind that he bites again and again until they’re a deep purple.

     “You do realize that Adam is racking up ‘14’s in golf, right?” Max asks, watching with deep amusement as the two startle. Jordan’s gaze flickers over towards him, surprise lurking in their depths, and Adam’s head snaps upwards, cheek darkening with color.

     “And?” Jordan asks, leaning forward to nip again at Adam’s throat.

     “And they’ll be suspicious if he doesn’t come back soon?”

     Adam lets out a soft sigh and presses his lips against Jordan’s, gently pressing their foreheads together. “We should return to playing.”

     Max huffs a laugh and turns towards the recording studio, casually calling “I feel like I should inform you, Adam, I’m in love with you, too,” over his shoulder, watching with a faint smile as Adam’s eyes go wide. He settles back down at his laptop in the recording room, eying the other two as they settle back into their seats.

     “For the record, Brain,” Adam snaps before anyone can say anything, “fuck you.”

     Brian eyes him for a second, then snorts loudly. “What the hell did you do to your neck?”

     Adam’s hand slides up, covering the hickies that Jordan had sucked into his skin, and he scowls. “I picked a fight with a vacuum and lost,” he snaps, lips thin with agitation. “Now fuck off.”

_(Max covers his mouth with his hands as he laughs._

_A pissy Adam is the best Adam.)_

**oOo**

     In the end, Adam moves in with Max and Jordan. They’re already settled in Jordan’s house and it would be a pain in the ass to make the both of them uproot their lives. Besides, Adam lives in an apartment and Max and Jordan have an actual house (one that has a bed that bigger than the one Adam owns), and he’s very much looking forward to having his own recording room at Jordan’s place.

     “ _Our_ place,” Max corrects, Jordan nodding at his words, and Adam realizes with a start that he’d said it out loud.

     “Oh,” he says quietly, cheeks flushing, and he ducks his head when Jordan laughs. When everything is said and done, the moving all completely, they wind up on the couch in Max’s living room, curled around each other with Adam squished between them in the middle. It definitely takes some rearranging, but eventually they get the house set up, exchanging some of their furniture for Adam’s.

     (Unsurprisingly enough, they don’t have to inform Ze _or_ Chilled about their new relationship.)

     It’s a phone call, one that comes in about three days after Adam moves in, and Max glances at his cheerfully ringing cell. “Hey, Ze.”

_“_ _Hey, Max.”_

     “So, what’s up?” he asks, putting it into speakerphone so that Adam and Jordan can hear. “You’re on speakerphone, by the way.”

     Ze’s quiet for a moment, and there’s faint murmuring behind him, followed by laughter that can only be Chilled. _“_ _I’m going to assume that, seeing as Chilled and I haven’t gotten any more frantic phone calls, that you, Jordan, and Adam are a couple now.”_

     Max snorts and Jordan pipes up with a, “We’re all good now,” laughing softly as Adam mutters faint curses under his breath.

     “Meddling bastards,” he says, sounding almost offended, and all of them break into laughter.

_“_ _Are you going to tell the others?”_ Ze asks. _“I mean, Adam_ did _say that he lost a fight with a vacuum cleaner._ _Nice hickies, by the way.”_

     Jordan snickers. “That would be my doing. Max tends to bite thighs.”

     “I’d be offended, except it’s true.” Max turns his head and bites at Adam’s shoulder, dragging a sharp intake of breath and a faint keening noise from his throat.

_“_ _Goddamn, Max,”_ Chilled snaps, and his voice is louder in the way that speaks of him having snatched the phone from Ze, _“control yourself. No fucking Adam stupid while you’re on the phone with us.”_

     “Then cut the call,” Adam breathes, doing just that before turning to seal his lips to Max’s.

_(They don’t leave the couch for the rest of the evening._

_Or the night, for that matter.)_

**Author's Note:**

> Drop me a message on my tumblr ❤
> 
>  
> 
> [ Earth Fire Skye](earth-fire-skye.tumblr.com)


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